There are lipstick stains on your mug
and chips in your fingernail polish.
The plant by the window is wilting.
You have a chapped smile and wistful eyes:
they dart between stipple constellations
and the wrinkles in your fingers.
Light spills through cracks in the door
while smoke billows out to the street.
Somewhere, dogs are barking.
Balancing a dull pencil over crinkled paper,
you begin to write about some bliss state
far away from here.
and chips in your fingernail polish.
The plant by the window is wilting.
You have a chapped smile and wistful eyes:
they dart between stipple constellations
and the wrinkles in your fingers.
Light spills through cracks in the door
while smoke billows out to the street.
Somewhere, dogs are barking.
Balancing a dull pencil over crinkled paper,
you begin to write about some bliss state
far away from here.
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