I never truly believed in you
Maybe i did once
But now i know you
As the thing people hold on to
When there's nothing left

So here I am
With nothing left

The bus stops
on these roads,
plexi-glass shelters,
sit, collecting humans
and rain, wet wanderers
fleeing the sky.

He stares at his feet,
this moment's occupant,
huddled in his surplus camo-
jacket, safe and bearded.

This is my city
     (there are many like it but this one is mine).

They plant baby palms
along these streets; they
unfurl and catch these winds,
soak up the rains, hide

the treatment centers
and meeting rooms,
gutter syringes and
cheap hotels.

It's lovely here in the spring.

so I noticed that we both drink coffee.
just like anyone, we both like ours a certain way.
i like mine sweeter, with just the aftertaste of coffee there.
caramel, sugar, creamer.
i think about when i’ll have my next cup, and the idea of it alone makes me happy.
i don’t care what time of day i have it, i almost always have a cup.
i make time for my coffee.
it might be safe to say i think you like your coffee black.
you might add just the smallest touch to soften its bitter taste, but never too much.
sometimes i think you just pour it and carry on, as though it’s nothing important at all.
as though all it is, is just some quick fix.
like you just want to get it over with.
we drink it in two different ways.
i drink it slowly.
i note every flavor in every sip, i enjoy it.
i note the warmth it brings me.
i like it all hours of the day.
you drink it quickly.
quicker than me, at least.
you don’t care if it burns your tongue, or perhaps you’re used to the pain.
you accept it.
you never let it last, you move on to something else soon after.
i lay in your bed, watching your eyes as they skim the screen in front of you.
your mind is somewhere else.
i savor the moments you look my way, if even for a second, and smile at me.
i wonder if you even notice them.
i feel your laugh vibrate my bones, making the hair on my arms stand on end.
do i make you feel at all?
i reflect on it every time i drink my coffee.
i think about it with each and every sip, taking my time.
something tells me that you don’t do the same.
after all, it's just coffee.
but i put my all into this coffee.
i think you like your coffee black.

i really loved you
i still do
but i can’t do this anymore:
pretend that i’m fine
when i am not
pretend that i don’t mind
when i do
pretend that i’m happy
when i am sad
i did it for you
so you could be happy
so you wouldn’t end up like me
but look what happened in the end
life took you from me
and i need to let go of you

A whirlpool of thoughts spins around my head.
Thinking of words that have never been said.
Playing with children that never been fed.
With the food of wonder, the food of dreams.
While I myself, have it bursting at the seams.
These poor children, they suffer.
And every single day, their lives get tougher.
They starve, every single child.
Their imaginations so mild.
I weep for them, the children.
In their eyes, I see something grim.
A light is there, but it’s growing dim.
Then it fades away, away into the night .
And the children, oh the children the don’t even fight.