The Slot
by Maeemi
· 26/02/2026
Published 26/02/2026 11:09
The crusts of the bread are dry and they're thick.
The silence in here is making me sick.
I eat over the sink so I don't have to sweep.
The promises made are the ones I don't keep.
One blue candle in a saucer of beans.
I’m living way past my emotional means.
It’s 11:45 and I’m thirty-two.
The wax on the plate is beginning to blue.