A Slow Breakfast

I saw my face in the mirror, painted in bold colour.
Monstera on the table unfurled like my unfolding self.

Desire spilled like grapes, waiting for the lover.

So I became the space between bright pink and deep blue, shifting out of cover.

Realizing my journey was as simple and rich as the breakfast table I made for us, that slow sunny Sunday.

Hope bloomed in my mind as the charger buzzed with electricity.

And now I bloom with the Monstera, rare, wild and full of life:
mischief, not waiting for permission.

Colours wrap around me like the day’s first glow,
a friendly embrace as I slowly whisper to the mirror:

I flowed, and in flowing, I became the becoming.

Azure, May 2026. Toronto.