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Written in


sheltering your mug from the cold
I could feel the chips in ceramic
the residue of you quitting
a memory lost to a dirty sink
did we ever even meet?

drink our coffee apart now
stale in your memory
I trace rings and see things
but mostly your car
in the parking lot

I think it was about the view,
or maybe the open-concept
so you could see through me
just by coming in the door
I’ve heard this before:
transparency kills the chase

but you liked my banter
and the freckle on my neck
you told me your stories
things I’ll never forget

I drink my coffee alone now
new tin in the cupboard, but I
can’t let go of your flavour
your mug not in my sink.



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