I don't know if I ever want to have my poems
immortalized in a book, to sit on some shelf untouched
a reminder printed on blank pages; my love, and my pain
organized into pretty poetic arrangements for other's viewing pleasure
for strangers to know me that intimately on a level I barely understand
I can't comprehend--

my love, and my pain, indeed
the love I have is beautiful, and worth sharing with the world
but I dont know if I could immortalize the pain it has caused me to love so throughly
so completely have I given myself over to everything
followed the winding paths through heartache and back;
I would much rather forget them here, forget the past

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.

you are the river.
you're not the dirt that washes through it.
you're not the animal that drinks from the shore.
you're not the leaves that float in the current.
you're not the heat that dries the bed.
you're not the pollution that floods the stream.
you're not the frost that freezes the waves.
you're not the rain that floods the banks.
you're not what passes through you, harms you, oppresses you.
you are the river.