- 1 min read

the next room

has a tea cup with stale cold water in it

the ring on the inside like a faded promise

that you'd stay

I left it there on the day

they told me the medicine wasn't working

I left it just as you'd left it

as if you'd be back to claim it

and your mouth would take its place

and drink, and I'd be able to look at your face

when I told you

that I was glad you were still here.

Maybe the tea cup was my fear

that you'd have to leave while the sun set on my anger

and they always say not to let the sun set on your anger.

But mine was

in the cup

where your mouth had been

sat in an empty room

where I can still smell

the perfume that had lived on your skin.

Recent Posts

See All

she takes pieces

of me, little by little little bites sinking into old wounds every time and I let her because just like the trees open their hands to the snow I do love the idea of dying slowly loved and afraid and b

all she does

is write little books, is what I heard the husband of a friend say once. that's all she does, all day he said and she laughed and I nodded and felt my shoulders sink and remembered her laugh as I sat

Valentines Day

Bring in your dead, she said. So I dragged my lovers out of the warm cocoons of my sheets out through my crooked legs and my sweat-soaked arms and watched as they clutched not at the bed, but at their