At the café,
you and I sat together,
pretending to drink coffee,
pretending there was no roller coaster
inside my head.
Pretending to listen
to every word
coming from your mouth,
while my eyes stayed fixed
on your soft pink lips,
opening and closing
with every sip.
I envied that cup
that had the chance to be kissed by you,
not once, but again and again.
Or perhaps I was jealous of the coffee
that entered your mouth,
melting over your smooth tongue
before sacrificing itself.
How sad, that I could be
neither that cup
nor that coffee,
never blessed with the chance
to kiss your lips,
or lose myself completely
before becoming a part of you.