i add the vanilla.

sometimes it feels human
sometimes this flame is
almost all blue high priestess i welcome you

(the last wax didn’t melt)

and then all
covered in paper or mud
like almost unhappened

no use opening it
it’d be like stitching water

in the house there are
no memories in leather
like a jacket worn and then thrown

the rest is kept
within me

quiet roses say quiet, quiet
so that quiet grows around them

no use opening it
it’d be like tying the zephyr winds

or zahir