Starlight in her hair,
Sunshine upon her fingertips,
And syrup on her lips.
Perfection is cold, and yet she is warmer than every hearth on earth.
Sapphire eyes, electric soul.
She's neither sun, or moon, or stars.
She is all the sky above.

The smell
Of coffee
Fills the air

That first sip
Fills
      Your
           Soul

Yet the second cup
Just isn’t the
S
A
M
E

sciolist role-play
comparing pain
pretending to pretend
and all very serious
starving
no food, no roof
but, man, full of meaning
giving it away