at empty tables,
imagining pure sunshine
by the light of manufactured flame.
This thing we have between usis fluffy confection of sugar and air.
This thing that comes between us
is the fracture we ignore.
Don't take away my fantasy.
Close your eyes,
make a wish,
but don't blow out the candles.
I ate a piece of my soul today,
drizzled with butter and honey.
It was delicious.
This is a Sunday Scribblings post.