It's not called baby pink. For a quinceanera dress, it's called champagne.

It will finally be thrown out in a pandemic. 

The cherry-blossom tea box sits next to a bottle of untouched strawberry Smirnoff.

Strawberry-and-cream oatmeal blends to a bitter coffee.

When getting your first pap smear alone, focus on the faded red marker on the whiteboard.

Not the ice-cream scooper like an abandoned ship in the Atlantic.

I hold a bouquet of bleeding hearts

for the Dora-haircut-wearing girl who once danced with street Huskies 

but was never allowed to dance again once she bled.