By the End of This Week

Poetry Aug 15, 2025

coffee rings on white paint
mirrored
dark circles under our eyes

We’ll smell of each other-
soap, toothpaste, beds
shared,
edges blurring between bodies.
The sand we tried so hard to keep
out
finally making its way into
our veins.
Orange rinds under
our nails, sea salt in our h-
air sweet like
summer in February.
Wind drying clothes, bodies;
washed in the sea, sink, sky.
Flowers, pressed in books
kisses, pressed to necks.
Low constant of waves,
white noise
matching
white paint,
scattered with
discoloration.