"Write a poem for us to understand".

Why would I?
My poem's my heart and my ribs,
The galaxy scarf that's been strangling me for years;
My lover and companion,
My cup of tea that I enjoy in while hating it.

I enjoy my smooth ride in my imagination,
Where I do things I want to do here,
But which my mind itself does not let me do.
Here.

It's my sacred temple and the saviour who the temple is for.

Why do you have a need to understand it?
I'm the one jealously holding it,
Yet trembling to explain it.

My daily dose of galaxy.

My daily dose of hedonism.

Daily dose of suffocating.

Every day, closer to death, the closest to madness.

Welcome to the cup of my universe.
Enjoy it and hate it.

On a wooden table nested between purple flowers
A little cup of coffee sits
By a window perched on a bar stool
Fiddling with the cup, in the palms of her hands, sits a girl

She woke up this morning in a hurry to meet you
Took 3 buses to get to you
Because you made plans weeks ago, but you never showed up
And now this girl is left hopelessly thinking
“What’s the rush to being rejected?”

The barista came by, asked her if she was waiting on someone
No one important
because waiting on you is like reading the same paragraph three times
And never understanding a single word
They asked her if she’d like another cup, anything to eat
She can see the pity in their eyes
They can see past her faux smile
She doesn’t have an appetite, but accepts another cup

They filled it to the brim
Maybe its warmth will fill the cold inside her chest