another cup of tea

I feel time pass through the cracks in my cup into the moulds of the demands of every day and contract with my name. there are tools I can use to stop the flow though they are little more than bandaids and in no time the pools form at the base of the china on the bench. sometimes I slip on what I’ve spilt and lose my balance. I do my best to find my feet for those the fall has caused more pain than me.

my brother breaks the rhythm for a page or two. we eat somewhere new and take the bus to see someone we miss at the theatre. I scare a ghost in the foyer: in their domain they shrink into themselves when they see me, stepping back into a conversation they’d been hoping to abort. we walk past and they are smaller than they’ve ever looked. on the stage our friend shines like the strobe she had been when we knew her back home. the play doesn’t catch us and maybe we’re too lost in ourselves and patterns we should fix but it’s nice to watch and listen. after the show we say well done and she takes us through the school that’s been her home for a chapter we’ve not yet read. I hear my brother laugh and I wish he could more often. at the house we fall asleep on the couch to the sounds of a film we chose to watch for fun.

in the morning I take too long to wash and ruin someone else’s day. I bend for them and feel the weight of each apology I pen for harm I never thought to cause. the thoughts are bitter and I resent the gratitude I lack for what I have. the soldiers shout and open fire in a cafe. I leave my room and pour another cup of tea.