You smell of insecurity and kindling passion

But the air that lags behind you tastes of belief in humanity and a sheer

Optimism

That I can look straight through but then I get lost and cannot see the world on the other side

But when you step close to knock on my front door

Your boundless forgiveness fogs up my window pane

And every time I see your laugh lounging on my living room sofa

Or hiding behind the musty part of my closet

I invite it to sit and drink some tea together on my porch

But instead it leaps at me

Splashing onto my face and waking me up with a nothingness that you planted in the cultivated soil that lines my rib cage

The nothingness feels like a soft Sunday morning

But sometimes it rains on Sunday