Tea Time

a little girl hides behind my eyes

  crying. 

she sits at a small table

  holding a porcelain tea cup, 

pinky out.

  as tears salt sugar,

tea steeps muddying water,

  and scones crumble,

while my eyelids close, leaving her in darkness.

  she sleeps,

f

  a

l

      l

  i

n

    g

              i lie in bed,

head on a sunken pillow,

  curls drooping on silk,

breaths faint,

 and my heart slows,

as a tear laces my cheek

  f

     a

  l

                     l

                 i

               n

                   g

tea spills,

   shattering hung mirrors.

shards graze the collar of her dress,

  fabric fraying

against the pastel skin

  on her back.

tears ribbon at the corner of her eyes,

  seeping into her hair 

f

  a

l

      l

  i

n

    g

  in my mouth

her name chokes,

  caught on groans

no one will hear,

tongue burnt raw

as i lay, 

  f

     a

  l

                     l

                 i

               n

                   g

table empty 

    sugar sweetener crystalizes

from oxidation,

    pushed fingerprints glazed

into chipped porcelain,

    dessert tier tipped,

scones stain— oil on cotton,

    curtains drawn on dust 

                        f

  a

l

      l

  i

n

    g

  my eyes puffy

as i wake,

  my doe eyes mimic hers.

i mourn her

  forever.

Lake Chavez ‘25

I wrote this piece from the perspective of a girl who dreamt of herself as a little girl. I made the format moving to show the sleepy part of dreaming.