ten tears that escape from the narrow corners of my eyes

flowing down my cheeks and onto my lap where they melt and disappear

even my tears have lost.

nine questions scribbled into a diary late at night

I’m sorry that I wasn’t the rings to your Saturn,

because Saturn had cracked into two;

I’m sorry that I slipped salt into your sugar,

yet your sugar was bitter, I cried too.

I’m sorry that you never learned to care,

warmth,

pumpkin spice lattes

hot, spice-soaked coffee drizzled with a splash of cinnamon

coated with half-melted whipped cream, nestled by the delicate fire,

comfort,

your favorite cardigan