Cocktails (an acrostic poem)

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Can’t figure out which flavor of Daquiri she wanted

Of course there was the Classic Martini, or one of a hundred permutations

Can’t forget the Old Fashioned, but she thought she wanted something newer

Kicking back a Whiskey Sour might put a nice pucker on her lips

Though maybe some bubbles with a Moscow Mule

Ah, or going tropical and hit up a Mai Tai

If not perhaps a Sloe Gin Fizz would hit the nostalgic spot, but not tonight

Leading her to decide on a Rum and Coke since sometimes simple is better

She was sad when her drink disappeared after she misplaced it moments later.

Ration (an acrostic poem)

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Reaching into the sack, he handed his daughter a small potato

And her look of disappointment hurt his heart so much

That was the best he could do, at least she would have something in her tummy tonight

If he could do more, he would

Only if he gave her more now, she would go without later that week

Now to bully his hunger into being quiet until he got her to bed

Forget (an acrostic poem)

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Focusing on what memories she had left

Organizing them in some sort of mental filing cabinet

Realizing later that she had lost the keys to those drawers

Giving her so much less to attach her to this existence

Everything that was her softly faded out, lost to everyone

The fact that she was still alive was little consolation

Stitch (an acrostic poem)

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Systematic suturing of her emotional wounds

The pain of sewing the gash to her psyche was almost unbearable

It continued to throb years later, but the echoes of the horrific laceration kept getting weaker

They left the itch of wanting to see if she had healed enough yet

Cutting loose and pulling out each piece of mental floss

Her battle scar, now exposed, made her proud of not only surviving but healing

Sense (an acrostic poem)

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She smelled easy money in the air

Everyone was all beer, pizza, and Buffalo winged out.

Now she felt it was time for her to execute her plan while they were in the drunken gluttony afterglow

So fellas, listen up. What do you say we have a little side wager on the game?

Everyone agreed. Two hours later she was seen five hundred dollars richer

Train (an acrostic poem)

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To put her mind through the mental pressure cooker

Researching what her next “next” was going to be

All she wanted to do was to level up now

It was her passion, but she realized it was unrealistic

Now she needed to double down on the work.  It will all pay off later.