I get them in glimpses. They graze past my fingertips and flash by my eyes.
Soapy lukewarm dishwater left in the sink overnight.
Bracing for another fight.
The smell of smoke on your clothes.
She whispers, ‘no one knows’.
Four gold fish won at the fair. One teddy bear.
Secrets told to bathroom walls.
Throwing up in public stalls.
Perfect Halloween makeup, and shoe laces tied tight.
Angry words whispered, and bottles hidden in cabinets out of sight.
Ponytails kept in place with too much hairspray.
No food tonight, can’t afford to pay.
Glimpses of a childhood lost.
If found, please return.