16 lines
I told myself
with the sun’s final melody
that the dark liquid in the chipped ceramic
was more than milk
and melted chocolate
that if I pressed my palms to its warmth
some connection would form
I gulped the last of its magic
chocolate foam sinks
and I tell my friends I just had a rough day
the pit between my fingertips
didn’t tell me there was more to it
I saw more empty days
and pills in my cabinet
that would go one by one
or maybe all at once.
Val Writes 