I am the bitterness of ***** streaming down your neck,
and you are the sweetness of caramel. Smooth, sultry,
enticing.
I am black coffee on a stark, bleak Autumn-Winter morning,
frowning faces and angry remarks lingering on the tips
of tainted tongues, broken glass and empty bottles
clinking quietly on a rickety shelf,
ready to crash down and fall.
You are camomile tea on a Spring evening, smiling, sipping,
loving comments whispered in the ear of someone you love,
something whole and full, ready to cushion the fall
of someone broken.
You are much more than you think you are,
and you make me more than just bitter and broken.