mine to lose

the liquid swirls under my silver spoon

a vortex of cream and brown, spinning faster now

if I peer deep enough into the eye of

the hurricane I’ve created

I can still see him

all messy hair and million dollar smiles,

something out of an 80s rom-com I’ve never seen

if I block out everything else, tip my chin towards the sun-filled window

I can still hear the roar of the wind as it rides the waves

I can feel the ghost of ocean salt spray on my lips—

the harsh glare of winter light striking the handle of my spoon catches

my glazed over eyes

it reminds me that this daydream

isn’t, wasn’t, won’t ever be

my reality

I’m chasing shadows around the rims of chipped teacups in my mind,

arms stretched far in front of me, clawing desperately at a

present, past, future

that doesn’t belong to me