one day we had:
winter days and dark jackets,
tea in beige cups,
talks about advertisements,
touches that went nowhere.
now it is only the air between us.
every thought of mine is on the table,
but i cannot arrange it
in a china dish—
it spills beyond the edges.
i remember
we would scrunch our noses
when our eyes met—
veins rising,
a reflex that was ours.
you, the lotus print
on your wall,
turning toward the sky.
a quiet shadow along my margins.
all i type these days are your habits,
more than i ever knew you:
black coffee, anytime.
the hannibal series you mentioned once.
watering plants at 6 pm.
my feet remember
the vibration of your fidgeting
under the table.
my margins, these days.
i can't quite talk to you.
your name fills the page instead.
even when i backspace,
it stays somewhere.
Jan 22
Jan 22, 2026 at 9:15 AM UTC
one day we had:
winter days and dark jackets,
tea in beige cups,
talks about advertisements,
touches that went nowhere.
now it is only the air between us.
every thought of mine is on the table,
but i cannot arrange it
in a china dish—
it spills beyond the edges.
i remember
we would scrunch our noses
when our eyes met—
veins rising,
a reflex that was ours.
you, the lotus print
on your wall,
turning toward the sky.
a quiet shadow along my margins.
all i type these days are your habits,
more than i ever knew you:
black coffee, anytime.
the hannibal series you mentioned once.
watering plants at 6 pm.
my feet remember
the vibration of your fidgeting
under the table.
my margins, these days.
i can't quite talk to you.
your name fills the page instead.
even when i backspace,
it stays somewhere.
