lilacs or lavender

Photo by Luli Sosa Benintende on Unsplash

he asks if i prefer lilacs or lavender

and i wonder who cares.

it’s all purple to me.

but when i’m lower than low,

i don’t know

how to describe the hurt

in words that are not the antithesis

of something that aches.

sometimes, i postulate

that if my parents loved me

and my family did more than

merely tolerate my presence,

i might have turned out

differently,

but it’s one of those truths

that hurts to bear — so

i don’t.

he hands me a coffee cup

and i drop it — not the mug

but the conversation.

i twiddle my thumbs

around the magenta ceramic

as espresso machines hum

in the background,

which is where

i wish to

fade.