
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
Comments
Yes, just a whisper at the tail end of golden hour! The contrast of the trees against the clouds is stunning -- and so sharp! I can spot all the individual fronds and spiky leaves reaching out, it's kind of incredible.
thank you!
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