we own teacups
of porcelain   that
make up a couple
her always filled with coffee
mine with tea
this was what became
our morning routine
to spend time until the cups are emptied

we talk about irrelevant things
matters and thoughts that do not
have acquaintance with consequence
how it'd be possible to raise goldfishes in ***** bottle
we kept for remembrance or how many cookies could
the porcelain beauty we held so dearly possibly contain
sometimes we waste a good morning
watching wisps of steam          rise                    and vanish
like the way people seem to get out of sight after bidding goodbyes
after a certain distance they'd be nothing more than a sihlouette
and after time     slowly they get out of mind

one day you'd realize
that no longer can you conjure their sihlouettes   in memory     nor
can you remember the way they walked away
were they off in a hurry or their footsteps
heavy as the heart the carried that very winter morning
when snow didnt fall like predicted by the weatherman the night before
(and that was when you realised the weight of goodbyes)

these are the thoughts that occupy
my mind when I wash our cups
and notice (everytime) stain rings around the innerside of the cups
three quarters full of coffee          and half a cup of tea
we'd store the cups after
hers always facing left
they would sit silently       never a word of complain
as such nice mannered tableware,     cups are.
they'd wait silently for every next morning
to be filled,        coffee          and         tea.

I always thought of her          as a hot chocolate person
until one morning I saw sunlight caught in the dark lazy curls of her hair
until how the dark coloured liquid resembled the colour in her eyes
and came to a silent agreement with myself
how she suited coffee on lazy mornings the way
coffee suited her when she tipped her cup ever so slightly
and     sipped       like she'd found peace in mind
now I smile when she asks why I stopped telling her teacups are meant for tea
(that there are no absolutes in the things we do)

there are mornings she would wake to find me
already awake and silently staring at the rain pelted windows
legs crossed at the foot of the bed and singing
singing softly in russian

I'd end
always at Дорогая
and asks    if she
wants coffee.

2 cups of insecurity
4 ounces of comparison
1 cup of dinner not eaten.
5 cups of a mind in shackles
6 tablespoons of incomprehension
2 ounces of oblivious peers
3 cups of dinner not eaten.
3 teaspoons of phantom numbers
2 cups of anxiety
4 cups of mirrors smashed to bits
1 pint of self-hatred
4 cups of dinner not eaten.
1 tablespoon of depression
6 ounces of anger
2 pints of hopelessness
3 cups of self-inflicted scars
4 teaspoons of ribs in the mirror
5 cups of fainting on the stairs
1 gallon of dinner not eaten.
6 cups of grieving families
4 tablespoons of words unspoken
3 teaspoons of tears unshed.
2 cups of dusty belongings
4 gallons of friends never made
3 teaspoons of kisses never stolen
a lifetime of words left unsaid.

Melt insecurity and comparison and mix thoroughly with dinner not eaten. Mix a mind in shackles, incomprehension, and oblivious peers and add three more cups of dinner not eaten. Crush phantom numbers and anxiety and sprinkle over batter. Take each piece of mirrors smashed to bits and poke them carefully through self-hatred. Mix with four more cups of dinner not eaten. Melt depression, anger, and hopelessness and spread them thoroughly throughout the batter. Meticulously place self-inflicted scars visibly on top of the mixture. Cover with ribs in the mirror and fainting on the stairs. Mix with one gallon of dinner not eaten. Haphazardly toss in grieving families, words unspoken, and tears unshed. Mix with dusty belongings, friends never made, and kisses never stolen. Gather a lifetime of words left unsaid in a separate container. Take it outside and bury it. Do not mark the grave site.

She who did not come, wasn't she determined
nonetheless to organize and decorate my heart?
If we had to exist to become the one we love,
what would the heart have to create?

Lovely joy left blank, perhaps you are
the center of all my labors and my loves.
If I've wept for you so much, it's because
I preferred you among so many outlined joys.

Each day is like a Rubik's Cube
Complex, confused, without a plan
I try to align it perfectly
But it seems I never can.

All day I'm trying hard to solve
the exhausting, tiresome and endless fight
Trying to figure out the perfect way
to have the same colors on every side.

No matter my efforts, I'm always left with
One orange in the yellow, two blues in the red,
three greens in the white,
forty thoughts in my head.

I could cheat and switch the stickers
I could call and ask a friend
I'm not good at solving problems
But at least I can pretend

But when push turns into shove
I can't solve it by aimlessly shifting
I can't learn it by aimlessly watching
And I can't live by aimlessly drifting

So no longer will I sit back and watch
other people figure out my life for me
I'll take my time and color my sides
Because no one can live life for me.

You taste like rain
your touch like fire
you breathe electricity
and I am the wire

I hate you, and yet,
This is the most beautiful
Tragedy I’ve ever experienced.

Simple-minded wonder
Of how your hands could lace
With mine ever so perfectly.

Nothing makes this okay
I’m not okay. This isn’t okay.
The electricity when our hands touch
No, this is not happening.

I hate you.
I have for years.
Why would it change now?

Is it because of the way
You held my face as I was falling
After taking the blow, you caressed me
Why do I forgive you so easily?

I love you.
No, but I can’t.
You’re stupid.
I hate you.

And I’ve gotten to know you
To know the blue of your irises
That turn into the dark emerald
When you strike

Like a snake

But you’re my snake.
I’ll forgive you for everything
Because I can’t resist
The way you wrap yourself around me
And **** the life out of my bones.

My very own personal Anaconda.

I have a confession,
But more of an obsession;
I don't wear this dress
Just to impress.

Yes, I like to dance
And sing and prance
But I feel most happiest
When you're most sappiest

And we can be crazy
Although we're lazy
And I don't feel like a mess
With you and this dress