I collect parts of myself, ones that roll like coins in a silent room. These are messages hidden in some corner, perhaps under the sofa. I put them in a teacup. No cream or sugar there. And I find the flavor of me again.
I found ten ways of doing nothing. It was the eleventh that did me in.
“Collectors of sudden moments keep quiet thoughts.”
“I would have waited even longer,
If I knew it was for you.”