I talked about you
like you shaped mountains
as if you had the power to reconstruct
centuries of settled sediment
into something I would lose my breath trying to climb
I spoke about you,
I swore you put the stars in the sky
just for me
but took them as my eyes adjusted to the dark
and I could finally see.
I talked about you
like you were the milk in my morning tea:
just enough to keep it warm
but not hot enough to burn me,
as if you never hurt me,
it's funny.
how I talked about you
like you would move mountains for me,
or build me a galaxy.
I used to love tea,
and now I drink coffee.