routine dilutes me.
makes my motions less fluid, more rigid.
a coffee cup in the kitchen,
half-drunk in haste lies there: still.
rushed hello-how-are-you’s, even faster goodbyes,
do we say what we really mean?
maybe we should tie our hands together,
forever allies.
what to do, what to say,
all distilled into a compact list.
a mistrust adrift through the winds,
was life supposed to be this swift?
i want to be kissed, not quickly, but softly.
i want to hold every memory in the palm of my hand, tightly.
i want, i have, i will.