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I’ve slipped through the cracks of your table again.

Your coffee was left undisturbed
but I could not help
my stomach on your shoes
or my heart pulsating to small gasps on your sleeve
your patience as slow as an engorged tick.

You’re thirsty
and you're drowning in your atmosphere
a little discontentment might be good for you
as I spoil with your cream.

Call it fate, Dear One
that I sink into the ground beneath you
and make drunk your footsteps.