I drink my coffee black.
I hate it.
But thats how you drink it.
Always reminds me of that time in the coffee shop,
too nervous to ask for cream or sugar,
so I drank it anyways,
your presence made it tolerable.
Now that black coffee is all I have left,
and my days are spent with your eyes peering out of my cup.

Nestled in a booth,
Small latte sips,
Brilliant blue eyes,
Sheltered behind tortoiseshell frames,
Engaged with some battered book.
I sit parallel,
******* a long cold coffee,
Pretending not to be falling for you.