Poem from a future project tentatively titled, “Dampness”

Crumbs By Jasen Sousa

A bed of empty inferior.
A box of almost empty cereal
littered with bottomless dust.

Delicate crunches are
not as loud
as a ceiling
that sleeps on top of me
with the weighted pressure
of those who have knocked
on my bedroom door once and never returned.

A half made bed.
A half of piece of toast
covered with nothing,
but truth.

I share an empty coffee cup
with the woman
who has yet to tell me good morning,
but I still kiss her goodbye,
wish her a good day,
and tell her that I will see her soon.