i'll make you coffee

The universe of our creation

is filled with floating islands

spaces, image of the negative

earth, soil and water, wind,

fire

free

you and I are children of the prototypes,

who claimed whoever we want to be



We are not specimens of a written testimony

our dynamic is not a law, reproduced

but by nature of a circumstance

silent agreements sealed and sounded

a sip of melancholy -

from a ceramic teacup

I fancy our quirk, over a weekend bench






My dear,

my peculiars you have to tolerate -

       barely an eyebrow raised

were they colourless to you

were they unlovely to your perceptions

were they a chamber of reasons for your kindness to take place

I'd like to apologize

but I fear of misunderstanding and its sorts;

my quantified reactions


I fear of losing our space, once built

losing us, losing you




A sip of melancholy

I fancy our quirk, over a weekend bench