deliberated on a long black
to fit in with your latte
but i guess i can't change
washed down my words
with steaming earl grey
and later at the quaint bookshop
i filled up my head
with other writers, pretended to
admire the whimsical words
but actually i was more interested
in the resident cat
it sat there, flicking its tail
disdainful of every new customer
that walked through the door

You used to trace my initials
on fogged-up glass planes
two halves of a heart drawn on tiptoes
other times the inked version
appeared in your journals
I came pouring out of your pen
spilling onto your keyboard
all the fears I never knew I had
you conjured them out
stuck them on me
like sticky-notes you used to
leave around, little reminders
of what was to come
//
it took two orbits of the earth
around the sun
but then you stopped promising
stopped searching
and winter let itself through
the door with the spare key
and the outside
of my fogged-up window
showed a December without snow
and I
and I...

(that cold January morning,
i blew on the glass and
traced your initials
watched them fade away)

it used to be daisies
under shining droplets of sun
transparent sadness
trapped in spiderwebs
now he's left on the
bleak balcony
with only his snapdragons
shaped like flower skulls
living for a tomorrow
no one believes in

somehow, slowly
I fell out of it
maybe it was when
I opened my eyes to
prettier things, like
bicycles parked under
trees bearing red leaves,
like the way the willow branches
fell next to the lake, like
looking out of the window
at 6am and seeing the sky
light up, like
feeling the sun after the rain
the sweet humidity
maybe it was during all of those
moments, or maybe it was none
but I accidentally fell out of it
with you

today I am thinking of you again

the sky is thundering
there is a scent of rain
lingering in the still air
it's called autumn rainfall
the country you're in now
but not here
all year round, it's
it's summer rain here
full of wet green grass
and I'm sitting outdoors
watching sunbeams
shine through patches of cloud
but I'm thinking of
a different kind of rain
with dark grey skies
red-gold leaves chasing
in a circle, long scarfs
flying and coats flapping

today I am missing you

the 3pm sun is streaming through
the window with
glued-on paper flakes
illuminating the furniture
casting dark shadows
against light wood
and i'm tasting snow
on my tongue
and thinking that this
feels like freedom