graduated cylinder

arqios

 

“Echoes in the Graduated Cylinder”

 

In the glass throat of morning,

a single drop measures memory—

not by volume, but by ache.

 

Calibrated silence, etched

in milliliters of longing,

where each mark recalls

a moment we didn’t name.

 

The meniscus curves like a question,

hovering between surface tension and surrender.

And still, the wait drops— not to fall,

but to be seen.

 

 

 

 

.

 

 

  • Author: crypticbard (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: September 28th, 2025 01:59
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 2
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Comments +

Comments1

  • orchidee

    Fido asks me (in a nice way): 'I suppose you didn't get any of the cryptic meanings of this poem - as usual?!'



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