Spill over the top,
let me drink your insides so they become mine
once more.
We were all the same once but that was before
our parents decided to donate fingers
to the place on their gravestones engraved
forever yours.

And I still see you sitting there
pipe in hand
burnt lavender floating through your veins
just how you floated through mine
every day when we were a lesser age.

You're the only reason I am,
and I am nothing.

I laid out a smooth brown blanket
to comfort the scales
flowing through my laptop speakers
five hundred and thirty-two times every second.
Two more times is disarray,
One hundred less leaves you crystalline,
like water,
pouring from the sink
into tupperware cups,
gurgling,
heated,
tea.
We both just need a little tea.