Breaking Bread

We were tucked away together,

in a cozy kitchen corner,

where sunlight spilled

across our worn tiles,

listening to a song

that felt like breakfast—

milky eggs and black tea.

A clattering of utensils

pots and pans singing

as the record player

whispered on about

universal mornings,

young camaraderie

found in our shared

moments, veiled truths

of broken families and

small town dreams.

The kind of things

that forces you to

grow up too fast,

and too soon;

but, here we are,

you and I,

overcomers,

ride or dies,

thick as thieves,

thicker than water,

thicker than the

grocery store

cinnamon rolls,

You know the ones,

the ones that really

stick together.