Porcelain

A small chip on the lips of a white porcelain cup

caught my eye, glaring at me like an angry

ant ready to bite my lips with its sharp edge

which could slit my skin and bleed red.

Numbed by too many moving parts

ready to raise a cacophony of paper cuts,

I grabbed its neck

and mindlessly tossed it in the can

as if that’s all there’s to it; just a cup of porcelain.

Yet I remember the way its smooth white surface glistened

under the sunlight on a cold winter day.

11.15.2025

Step

The golden sunset shines a warmth onto

crimson foliage imbued in tapestry of hues.

As pedestrians basks in its glory,

I notice tips of the leaves turning into burn marks,

and the glorious sun into last candle wick.

I paused, wondering if I should linger

soaking my soul in its comfort.

But the sun must rise after dark.

Let there be strength and wisdom

in my steps into the dark.

11.14.2025

Nevertheless

Like pastel saccharine taste of cotton candy,

a cacophonous blur of colors pass by

through a tiny window into different worlds.

For a moment, the smell of sewers and inflammatory burns are forgotten.

To return back to face the emptiness,

the helpless vanity that seeks my answers,

is one so tempting to postpone indefinitely

by closing one eye or tilting the head.

Nonetheless,

the sun rises again,

the answer is demanded.

11.13.2025