headlines and the mirror

cats howl for love beyond the window through the witching hour and dreams. their pleas are unsuccessful, underscoring parties trashing mansions in my head. my fingers trace the pathways down your forearms for a moment. you laugh with someone else against the doorframe, watch me move their furniture. violet velvet armchairs, ugly lamps. the bed frame feels too light and your smile isn't enough to drown the questions I can't ask. are you even there? do you want to leave with me?

sun and birdsong. the buffer lasts longer with summer in the wings. time and effort stretched through webcams and corridors of other people's words. screams from video games make more sense than the current state of things. I dwarf my own potential with more headlines and the mirror.