Waiting

There is no coffee this morning.
So I spill onto the floor and
slosh around uselessly for hours,
hoping someone might slip
and fall and accidentally embrace me.

There is an eruption --
Our words, like vomit,
spill on to floor below.

An Adventure Across the Floor

I slime my way
across the floor,
leaving a trail
of myself behind.
As it slowly dries
and crusts on the
wooden floors,
I can already hear
her words.

The remains

She melts onto the floor,
expecting to be mopped away.
But I will wait for her to dry
and then sweep away the remains.

A Meeting

Water flows
over the kitchen
floor
below me.
It thickens
on approach
and stops at
my feet.
We ache
together.