I saw your cup still on the counter from last night, (are you kidding me), you said you’d take it in, but it’s sittin’ there like you forgot, you left that old sweater on the chair again, like a quiet reminder... a scent... that you were in here not too long ago... I’m chillin’ by the window with that half-empty mug, wonderin’ why smaller things sometimes is enough, you laugh when I tease you about no shoe by the door, but it’s grown into a habit that’s just part of you, I text you just to say “can you do the dishes soon?” I’m smirkin’ ’cause I know you’re in the kitchen room, little daily rhythms paintin’ how we live and love, nothin’ cinematic, just truth in the mundane, I grab that cup and toss it in the sink, ‘cause I’m stuck on you even when it’s just everyday things. (and it's bothering me now) And i'm mocking you even though i find it pity and cringe, (and it's bothering you now) I catch myself laughing at the chaos left behind, I guess this is the rhythm that’s ours to find. Some days it feels heavy, like we’ll never get it right, but the tiny traces pull me closer every night. Maybe, we can build somethin’ clean and new, but you carry mess from what you been through, I’mma try to scrub what you won’t rethink, ’cause every time you walk away… you leave the dishes in the sink. You say you’re fine, but you talk with your shoulders tense, I can read the room, something secret but immense, you check your phone twice when I ask how your day went, like you’re scared that honesty might come out by accident, I’m not tryna read too deep into the way you move, but habits linger like they’ve got nothin’ to prove, flinch when I speak firm, I was just callin’ your name, guess someone before me made loud feel the same as pain, so I lower my tone, ask soft if you’re okay, you crack a half-smile, say “it’s just one of those days,” I sweep up the mood before it hardens in place, hopin’ little by little we can make some space. Later on you’re quiet while I’m cookin’ on the stove, staring at the fridge like there's something i should know, telling me its nothing but I know that pose, it’s the stance you take when the past comes back unannounced, you’re tryin’ to sort feelings you don’t wanna unpack, like bags you keep closeted hopin’ I won’t ask, I’m learnin’ your patterns, the storms you don’t speak, the time that feel fine ‘until you crack around the edge of sleep, so I wash up the pans, leave yours for you to see, not as a complaint, just a mirror held gently, ’cause love ain’t clean, it’s the mess we don’t skip, and I’m right here with a towel if you ever let it slip. ...Can build somethin’ clean and new, but you carry mess from what you been through, I’mma try to scrub what you won’t rethink, ’cause every time you walk away… you leave the dishes in the sink.
0/500