It was like getting a second chance to live
But I chose to face death again.
I guess that was my addiction.

I sat there in a coffee shop, alone on a winter's night.
Holding my regular cappuccino topped with foam milk
I stared blankly into the cup hoping something to cross my mind.

The aroma of the coffee reminded me of some blurry memories
And the dark brown color seemed like the color of his eyes.
I sat there in a coffee shop, alone on a winter's night.

The warmth of the cup that gave me chills yet comforted me
were a proof how everything went back to him every time.
I sat there in a coffee shop, alone on a winter's night.

The bitter sip traveled down my throat with
a pinching effect but it felt so *******, to my surprise.
I sat there in a coffee shop, alone on a winter's night.

I licked the last bits of the foam from my lips, oh that delight!
I smiled to myself as I placed the empty cup back on the table.
I sat there in a coffee shop, satisfied on a winter's night.

We are the ones who paint with words
thoughts and feelings soaring like birds,
horrors, dreams and things of the night
indelibly scribed for your delight

furrowed brows are forced to think
in pastel shades and jet black ink
scrawled in haste in an hour of need
raw nerves scraped until they bleed,

there is no cure or magic pill
we lost our freedom to the quill  
slicing our souls down to the bone
to leave a legacy carved in stone.

You keep everything valuable covered with the fear
that it's beauty might be ruined with dust.
Yet you uncover yourself with the fear
that you might not be 'valuable' for this world.

They compared her with the mighty things
Like a volcano wanting to erupt or a delicate glass vase
Little did they know that she was just dreaming of escaping
Somewhere far away, somewhere to a better place.

I found myself drowning in the great old Black River. I was struggling to swim but a huge weight pulled me down into the darkness. I looked around and what I saw, made me scream. The bubbles of the air, that I was saving, were the last thing I saw as I got free from the struggle and let my body float wherever the waves would take me.

I was pulled down by the ugly version of myself.

Oh Madam Honk,

That black ribbon of yours is tied the same way
I wonder if you see it now, what would you say.