layered like a cake as the gray day whisked me downtown. but sugary words are not capable of frosting this poem. a cherry pie in the face. not so poetic being alone. love is a nice creamy filling that makes life bearable. and i’m becoming caffeine crazed. (again.) ask those thrifted boys i meet for coffee, do you believe in “the” love of your life? a toasty person like one singular pair of worn in socks. finding sentimental holes or losing one in the wash. sometimes love is misplaced. but you’ll never forget the name.