by Chelsea Petersen
My perfect love
I’ve seen you in pieces
Of lovers past
Who’ve all come
To take a sip
From a glass half full
Look past the water spots
And grime
Particles of old failed nourishment
To what’s still sitting above the metal grate
A chipped mug
A cracked terra cotta
Housing a dried out houseplant
With drooping leaves
Turned yellow and brown from touching the sun
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