You go out late
at night, and i stay here,
picking up the pieces
of the mess you left behind.

(i am the mess you left behind
and i spend the night
picking up the broken
pieces of myself.)

**** it,
I'm strong,
independent,
and I'm my own
******* person

But ****,
I'm lonely.

I want
a hug? maybe?
the touch of
someone who cares
the comfort of affection

I crave
that warmth.

A cooling breeze
trickling in through the window
on a humid night

the lights outside
muffled by the drizzling rain,
the rustling trees

the comfortable warmth
of my bed, this blanket,
and your arms around me.

To crave affection
Is to crave-
To long for-
The display of love
And care.

To want affection,
One must first want
To be loved
And then want
To be shown that love.

To crave affection
Is to long for the knowledge
that one is loved and as much as
I shame myself for that craving
I can find no fault in it.

You are the center
of your own world.
You look forward and you
turn around and you
are still looking forward.

(Even if someone tells you
you’re facing backward,
to you it is still forward.)

You are your own
pivot point- the axis-
The pin in the paper.
When you stand
you stand still.

(Everything else around you
Will change and
Sometimes you change too
But you’re still you.)

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.