Soft promises

Hold the mug I left on the counter,

it still smells like cinnamon and coffee

My favorite mug with the deer

I was here, I swear,

just a little while ago,

Save me a corner of your bed,

not because I’ll come,

but because I want to remember

what it felt like to sink in your warmth

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and not feel the weight of everything else.

I bit into an orange today,

the stickiness on my fingers,

and I thought of you

how small acts can carry a lifetime

if you let them.

When I leave,

don’t lock the door.

Let the light spill into the apartment

like a soft promise that

I’ll find my way back here again.