The cup I see
Filled with tea
Though I don't know
If it is for me
So I suppose
I'll leave it be

I've wanted to hide there
And walk those cobbled streets
Deep down there below
Only now though
Have I realized the desire
Is that of a coward
Someone who wishes
To veil themselves
In faint darkness
Just enough so they can see
But not themselves be seen
There is a simple difference
Between someone who is outside
And someone who wants to hide
Remaining themselves unseen

close your eyes when
smoky mirrors reflect a fragile soul,
sporadic drips from the faucet
hit cigarette stained porcelain
and you're not in control.

candy corn orange battles
yellow cowardice grips,
over brick roads and white tips
of which you will walk upon.

bleach seeps into crevasses
weakening white ivory,
rationalizing your pores
to blister like sun damaged skin,
your reflection.