in the space of morning
Spoon of sugar, heavy roast brew,
Space of stomach, thoughts of you-
cast the water upon your hurt-
Worship all this world has wrought.
In destruction, we bowed our heads-
I prayed to a God that you wished dead.
I spoke of love, between small sips-
You swore of chaos, between chapped lips.
If I could paint, I’d paint a bruise,
The world is bleeding with mes and yous.
The world spreads wonders at our feet,
But we condition ourselves for sweet defeat.
I believe in souls — I believe in you,
Still, I see the holes, and the grief they brew.
Though I’ve mixed the faith into my skin,
I still hold a candle to the dark of sin.
And over coffee, I attempt to free,
this shackled morning of our fear.
The burnt red leaves of our front tree,
hang still and silent in the crisp air…
cut up strawberries, brown toast and tea…
but night’s weight remains stuck inside my hair.
despite our questions that align,
and all the answers we never find,
(I chose the coffee, you chose the tea,
I chose to stay, you chose to flee)…
despite all that, we bleed the same.
despite all that, our faces all frame,
the secrets we choose to hide-
despite the distance, we’re side by side.
