my bare feet greet particles of sand on the hardwood
i pull the refrigerator open and scavenge for something refreshing
and i rip a lightly spotted banana off it’s bunch.
“did you sleep last night?”
my mother’s coffee bubbles and spatters in the ***
black caffeine pours into a round white mug
with a splash of half and half and a complementary swig of sugar.
“no.”
i dab a napkin over an orange spot on my light tee shirt
the morning sunlight brightens me as it reflects off the table
a chilled breeze makes the grass’s dew shiver, and it creeps into the kitchen.

let your worries dissolve in the rosewater, but if they are stubborn, do not drown them.
the freckles spattered across your face look like paint when you run your fingernail over the bristles.
he has glowing skin, but premature eye lines.
he has his bare feet on hot summer gravel while you’d much rather sleep in the shade.
you worry about his reckless, coffee stained grin. you wince when you hear the rip of a motor engine, and the smell of tobacco ashes burns your nose hairs.
but he worries about you, too.

i cried a lot
but it was for love.
for i’d rather feel everything
than nothing at all.

because cries for love
are tears of gold
and soon i- will be the reason
for all of yours.