You are the bitter taste from coffee I still make too strong
I was in boiling water
You were not.
Too hot, too hot
those words burnt both our tongues.
I still see you when I shut the fridge door
catching myself wearing your empty expression in the window's reflection.
The milk is almost as pale as your skin,
as white as your teeth
when you remembered how to smile again,
as though you were stuck in a bad dream
that no amount of hot beverages could save you from.