Barnaby hands me my daily
cup of coffee, but this time, it's night
time, and the coffee reminds me of the war
but not the allies annihilating the Germans or Japanese
but the war between me and him every time
he confesses his love to me, the words pierce
through my heart
I will never love him as much as he loves
me, I'm disgusting
like the taste of the coffee
just beans in water.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 5:24 PM UTC
Barnaby hands me my daily
cup of coffee, but this time, it's night
time, and the coffee reminds me of the war
but not the allies annihilating the Germans or Japanese
but the war between me and him every time
he confesses his love to me, the words pierce
through my heart
I will never love him as much as he loves
me, I'm disgusting
like the taste of the coffee
just beans in water.
I wrote this for my AP Lit class about the painting, Nighthawks, based off the girl in the red dress sitting with the man.
