I stare into my coffee,
watching the cream swirl
as it dissolves into hot blackness.

My coffee is kinder than your eyes,
cutting through my paper heart,
poking holes in my confidence.

I start to fumble words;
enourmous wooden blocks
made of feelings too heavy for
an infant’s hands.

One turn after another,
I spiral down…
like the cream.

Finally I dissolve,
and fade into who you think I am.