To Occupy My Time

Every little prop of my life
Has taken a short vacation
Believing me to be in the care of the others.

So for now, in the absence
Of, amongst others, my bath
This cake and I
Shall ponder the mysteries of love.

There is a sensuality
To coffee that is slightly too hot.
Whorish lips roll over its silk
And hold onto this, if nothing else.

An empty lacquer box of treasures
Lies waiting in front of me.
Open, the perfect model of acceptance,
It waits for my props to return.

You like your coffee with milk
And a worrying amount of sugar.