I went for a coffee run, with thoughts of you going
a hundred miles, per second, through my mind;
like the slightest touch of wind that makes leaves tremble.
Bitterness never dominates the cup,
it’s complimented by natural sweetness (of opinion)
ranging from floral, to nutty,
to chocolate, to fruity—it’s unreal, the way you continue
to make me feel, anyone willing to listen to fragments of my life
I went for a coffee run; dusk drawing a portrait
of incessant thumping and throbbing on the sky,
urging me wonder why everything good feels wrong at first?
Perhaps, if we sipped life in molecular fractions;
would be able to savor the flavor easing in,
I am unpopular cherry tossed into roasting, lending
wholeness into darker grounds—I have left my signature
on rockier shores; marked with hues,
with shadings of fuchsia sin— each one, a reminder
of the kind of person I have been.
Mugs are simpler, yet a cup with a saucer feels complete;
I wonder if the words that come out of my mouth pique curiosity,
stone cold in their brutality, in their search
for truth with a touch of cream, as the clouds above rumble,
a soft slide into the philosophical, streaks of orange,
violet and spruce making up for the lack of peace; somehow
I find them to be my salvation.
The memory of touch, the memory of taste lasts a lifetime,
teasing us in hours of solitude, speak to me;
in the language of possibilities, in the language of autumn,
breathe in, even though
you find yourself thinking of spring—
serenity of browns dipped into melancholy of golds, I cannot help
but want you in ways
you would blush at; lifetimes exclaiming quietly, in midst
of running through streets of cobblestone,
submitting to the storm inside of me, I would stop the world
just to spend a moment with you, with you,
with you, know that heart’s forever hiding in plain sight,
waiting, just waiting for the other to open.
I went for a coffee run.
Photo credits: White ceramic mug with coffee by Alexandra Titova, Pexels.
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Posted for Poetics: Dungeons and Derivatives @dVerse Poets Pub