Cold Kitchen Dreams Poem by Delilah Miller

Cold kitchen.
Colder day,
Coldest women lay in the living room, living without their kin.
Clear evening,
Clutching my hands, seems like clearer skin
Clearest hint in what they say.
Careful now, go slow and whisper low,
More careful than you could have been
You'll see the most careful being cared away.
Collective and care-free,
Counting my words, and you don't even see.
What a strange state I'm in; I'll just go.
Because home being thousands of miles away, how could you know?
Creeping away...Promised you'd stay.
Creative...Another inconsistency it seems.
So I guess that I am...
I'm living with these cold kitchen dreams.