swathes and swathes of stiches and stiches cannot

save me from the choking ocean of my own

glances, at every reflecting surface- glasses, spoons,

shiny shop windows exposing cheap white mannequins;

and the colloquy that follows in the recesses of my brain.

i envy the amaryllis hastily planted in an abandoned flowerpot

on the kitchen sill.

lonely and beautiful.