“Delicate” | Morgan Coffeen | Poetry

Delicate

Morgan Coffeen

del·i·cate adj. 1. The faint twinkling of snowflakes in the sunlight, placed gently along the edges of branches just before they flutter down to be crunched up by tiny feet stuffed into clunky boots. / The veiny petals scattered across my nightstand from roses meant to fix another broken promise. 2. The drained and sunken feeling that washes over you just after the tears have stopped carving lines into your face (the one where you feel very human and small). / The way his hand brushed against my hair that first time in the dark, on the couch (he smiled when he didn’t think I could see it). / The tone in my dad’s voice when he told me things had gotten bad for him again. / The baby’s eyes fluttering closed, unaware of the pain that house held. / The small lines in your lips that spread like spiderwebs when you’d smile. 3. One single fuzz on the skin of a peach.