Spoiler
Inspiration from e.e. Cummings' it may not always be so
at the edge of a table
.....undecided
a feather’s touch is enough;
i will not breathe.
It was once full, a
warm embrace, moulded
between my hands.
What we had filled
kept me tethered, blinded
looking from above
i did not see
the holes created,
the steady decrease.
another pair of lips graces
the pink-tainted rim
finding what i have lost.
i will let go, not as if
it was too hot, but
with the tortuous yielding
that veritas brings.
Just know, the brown-ring stains
never leave the tablecloth.

