cigarette ashes
fly on the wind,
as i stare at my black coffee,
it gazes back at me.
black sobranie,
and i debate;
of all the people,
i find it hard to see
is there something
worth seeking.
just like dust,
i let them go
i never looked back
let them think i'm bore.
you may be
a world unseen,
yet i am so tired
no words flow well enough.
i'll just go lose myself
in paint and doubt
while i stare at my coffee,
and flit around.

Only when she's not around,
I find my heart cut out through my soul,
She always cuts me deep,
her love is bitter to my tongue
Sweet to my lips.
I feel stranded in an empty town,
far from my home, away from her ground.

So down in my weakness,
find my strength in the sips that I taste.
Grab hold of the back of my throat,
cutting the air. She causes me to choke.
Feels so warm inside,
down to my heart, around my pride.
She's much my weakness,
confessing my secrets to this black body mistress.

She called me every morning.

Then my lips ran dry,
far from a taste; or scent of her flavour.
She brought me pleasure,
far from enough, a feeling lasts till forever.
When will we be back together,
two thousand years since I've had a taste.

You've been gone for far too long,
miss how we met every morning.
And I swear my taste buds are calling,
I can't help myself from burning,
and I'm out here only yearning.

The craving yearn for her,
how it constantly burns.
I miss my cup of black grounded coffee.

i want to love you
like a lazy sunday morning
staying in bed
taking our time
sipping coffee
memorising every freckle
like the constellations in the sky
white sheets
and tangled limbs
with the scent of a memory
fresh on our lips.

you are sunflowers and summer rain.
you speak softly "we could have a place"
of our own, in the woods, in the meadows,
built of wood and built of love, built of us.

the cottage: cozy, us: all tangled up
and holding hands, what's yours is mine,
so you stole my hoodies and my heart.
our walls are covered with notes and art.

each night we talk under the covers,
you and i, we smile and pass the time.
i grab your hand and you hold mine,
i want this peace until the end of time.

I just like to keep an inch of coffee in my mug.

The old man turned back to give one last smile
And he raised his mug in a greeting stopping in the aisle
And I remember the days when I first met him
Learning to have that yellow cup filled to the lid

He throws back the last “sweetheart” he will probably ever call me
And I tell him to “drive safe”, “be careful”, and a sad “see you maybe”
The way his eyes lit up when I told him that I was finally
Moving onto bigger and better things

Three years, three jobs, two cities, two names
And every ‘by chance’ meeting punctuated with a wave
And the old man says he knows “ill be great”
And I smile bitterly as we go our separate ways

Roger, you give me hope.
In our small interactions
That things will be ok
Because even when things change
Some people always stay the same

Coffee.
eight cream, no sugar
Hi sweetheart, it's been a while

That bean bane and blessing
Blain brain is confessing
To needing its sup
From earthen cup

I could see it in his eyes
But then...
Ten seconds
The time it takes a shot to die
Or a moment to pass

You are my cup of coffee.

   I love your hypnotizing smell
   I love your alluring countenance
   I love your warmth
   I love your taste lying on my tongue
   and left something on my lips
   causing me to lose my senses.

You are my cup of coffee
and I want you all to myself.