the milk swam in the tea like clouds in the sky,
small beads of brown sugar laid at the bottom of the cup,
with a few stirs of a spoon, the drink swirled in clockwise circles.

she sat across an empty chair,
raindrops fell down from the sky to form puddles in the uneven cobble ground,
the chilly wind bit her cheeks and painted them rose.

when she stared into her tea,
it began to sparkle,
peacefully and idyllically.

but it never lasted long.
and she finished her tea.
and the chair was still empty.

there is no schema,
that differentiates this likeness-
the difficulty of deduction is not
a condemnation, it never will be

my care was born under the same foolish yoke
that motivated emperors to build bulbs of marble
to honor lost loves, to stay their hearts decay,
but gestures this grand escape my capability

I’ll revert to limpid simplicity, and watch
loose eyelashes fluttering in a fall-
cleaning your cheeks with my fingertips,
a gesture both large and small

my memories are con men
spinning fibers into thread
for forging famous tapestries
sewn sweetly in sugars of lead-

smelting dead language
into covers for their feet,
they run through broken glass
just to hear a phrase repeat.

little town camper girls gazing absently at the sun streams, rubber-clad feet coming together into a huddle of the same, with oil black hair shifting quick in the air and my larynx attempting to leap out of itself, my chest feeling thin as i carve through old conversations (imprinted underneath my dura mater)
i find danielle- a frog faced girl always frozen in stress
i picture you fretting amidst piles of clerical filth
i picture myself as a foolish mailman spitting half-thoughts into the face of someone searching for a more grounded approach
i used to be thrilled i wasn’t you but now i’m not quite so sure
misuse and embarrassment with the icicles that are my ribs, clamoring down your ladder,
which only ever had a rung or two to begin with

I stare
at clouds to become overtaken
with a roiling awe
folding and unfolding unto itself.
I want
to paint myself falling into the jet turbine spreading into a mist that’ll cling to the condensation nuclei in the sky...
I think
of the worlds morbid brilliance; floating between the beauty of vapors dispersion and senseless death.