She had everything under control
so She thought
This tough as nails-
Lived through hell-
Fought for her soul-
Type of girl.

But,
The grey saw her gloom
Her gloom saw the grey

She couldn't shake it
The brimming,
The stirring,
This Thing,
wielding with intensity on its way
up and up and up.  

The Stomach always feels it's presence first
Coffee, that'll help.
Right?
Get focused, get organized, get all American Dream-ed out.

Up it travels,
No clarity in this coffee.
The Chest is next,
and with it greets Denial.

You silly, ever fruit-less human
Denial FEEDS this.

And so The Heart,
That perfect victim.
Oh,
She's ****** now.

And there it hits,
Stirring her coffee.
the heart that’s so weak
it gave way to the throat,
as if it loves defeat.

Stirring her coffee,
the Throat concedes,
that familiar rock-hard lump.
It's all up to the Eyes now.
Her eyes that see,
strangers and vulnerability  
can for sure **** this thing,
in a coffee shop that stands for corporate greed?

Hers are no ordinary eyes either, you see
for their beauty is what,
made countless men weak.

But her eyes, it proves,
are powerless
once met
with the truth that now screams
as tears, stirring her coffee
at the coffee shop they first met.

--PY