I sat on the edge of a teacup,
Spinning, spinning in a saucer,
My feet dangling in the boiling,
Tea-stained water—wondering
If it were better to fall forward
Or backward.

I love when the sky's eyes are sinking,
               as if sluggish,
the wind a soft melody hummed
           through a tired, but resigned
                      mother’s lips.

There is so much life in the air
    at dusk;
              but it is gentle:
                             The soft rushing of cars,
              far off yowls from stray cats,
a muted conversation between
          a strolling couple.

I feel lost in this world, but somehow
     that makes me feel
                         more at peace--
Because in this moment,
        there is no
               pressure on me.

When I doubled over,
Knees landing hard
On the gravel,
I imagined I was an
Art installation--
A prospect of pain
For people to marvel at.

The word warbled
In my throat.
m a y b e. . .
I knew I could
Not make it work.
s o  w h y
Didn’t I just
Say no?