Whats in a name they ask
Alone sitting in a quiet cozy spot
Cuddled up Nsync with
The guy who parked in the Backstreet
We watched flicks and I dissed chicks
That appeared on screen
What gave it away?
A phone without a case
Just a girl
Longing for an embrace
She grew up in poverty
Her whole life trying to gain sovereignty
A semblance of cleanliness
A scent can mask this
She feels dirty and rugged
A whole life filled with luggage
And when he asked her
As he gestured to the long broomstick like decor
“whats that’’
She clapped back, “its not a cat”.
It’s a ‘’cinnamon stick’’
It filtered the room
From her doom and gloom
It electrified and mystified the air
In an old apartment where it was hard to stare
‘’Cinnamon Stick’’. He searched.
Term unfounded
She laughed because she knew
Whats in a name
A name that was not yet grounded
