we sit drinking coffee,

much is yet unspoken,

my cup looks cracked,

her biscuits all broken

 

the flat smells of damp,

split ends and oily hair,

scars bangle her wrists,

focus of my coy stare

 

by the hearth lies a cat

of a species I deplore,

yellow paint peels off

a lone bedroom door

 

on her neck a blemish

coated in stale powder,

all in all, a fragile bet,

my doubts tick louder

 

one hair on her chin, a

rare beast is my pity,

trying much to hard

ventures to be witty

 

damaged goods alright,

yet I resolve not to flee,

we seem two of a kind,

I think she'll do for me