two pouches full of pens and pencils
meticulously chosen,
Sylvia Plath's unabridged thoughts,
a mug drained again of a Prince of Wales
tea bag steeped twice,
the kindle charging from the lamp post
laid on top of the black blank page notebook,
the Strathmore,
and the rough writing in the Miquelrius chewed by the cat in one corner,
6 ounces of water left in the bottle,
upturned headphones,
an overlarge hoodie,
a speaker poised and ready,
a small phone stand,
laptop open and streaming,
the windows open into the sea and town outside;
a visual reminder that my thoughts have space outside my own confines.
-3/24/20
YOU ARE READING
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Romancelove, sex, vulnerability, and truth. chapter two of an ongoing collection of poetry by a bisexual woman.
