Last year, you were gracious
We sat attentively listening to your endless commentary
on the making of coffee and watched carefully as you used your two hundred dollar
coffee machine and grinder to munch up cooked beans and
make them into brown slightly oily bean juice
and so long as we were sufficiently impressed, we could partake.

This year, you gossip behind the scenes
approach people about what to do about me
drinking your coffee creamer, which is also special
and you stare at me with a look that seems to want
me to make your world flourish and grow and the sun to shine
on you every day and to renew your life with my heartfelt amazement
at your being
like a mother at her newborn child

And I am only trying to survive, and you have plenty of coffee creamer
so I can't even make it up to you, and I do not share your worry
that someday, you might open up the now crowded fridge and find nothing
I do not understand this kind of devastation
It seems petty and silly to someone like me who has woken up
to the blood and guts and body meat scattered around
her own life and had to scramble and fear and survive somehow

So when confronted, there's nothing I can do
but apologize, and I dissapoint again by not sharing things in common with you
and this angers you and you behave like an ignored child because I'm supposed
to share your world and interest and if not at least fake it because
that's what you need and I have the body of a mother
who is to give to the world who needs and needs
and that is supposed to be my job, my vocation
and my only wish in life

So I make my own bean juice and it's foul and rancid but I don't care
because the truth is, I never cared about your coffee
like a lover who is jaded and has given up, I was only faking it

so I noticed that we both drink coffee.
just like anyone, we both like ours a certain way.
i like mine sweeter, with just the aftertaste of coffee there.
caramel, sugar, creamer.
i think about when i’ll have my next cup, and the idea of it alone makes me happy.
i don’t care what time of day i have it, i almost always have a cup.
i make time for my coffee.
it might be safe to say i think you like your coffee black.
you might add just the smallest touch to soften its bitter taste, but never too much.
sometimes i think you just pour it and carry on, as though it’s nothing important at all.
as though all it is, is just some quick fix.
like you just want to get it over with.
we drink it in two different ways.
i drink it slowly.
i note every flavor in every sip, i enjoy it.
i note the warmth it brings me.
i like it all hours of the day.
you drink it quickly.
quicker than me, at least.
you don’t care if it burns your tongue, or perhaps you’re used to the pain.
you accept it.
you never let it last, you move on to something else soon after.
i lay in your bed, watching your eyes as they skim the screen in front of you.
your mind is somewhere else.
i savor the moments you look my way, if even for a second, and smile at me.
i wonder if you even notice them.
i feel your laugh vibrate my bones, making the hair on my arms stand on end.
do i make you feel at all?
i reflect on it every time i drink my coffee.
i think about it with each and every sip, taking my time.
something tells me that you don’t do the same.
after all, it's just coffee.
but i put my all into this coffee.
i think you like your coffee black.

round as the top of
tea cups, white as creamer in
coffee – ***** are sweet.

Bittersweet
the rush of caffeine
the warmth inside my bones
it's social graces
but...
bitter yes
Ma'am where's the creamer again?

Some things are just too strong to take
on their own. Like my coffee
harsh, bitter, and black, offensive
to my tongue. But still so necessary
is the caffeine wired within, so vital
to the start of my long days.

But I can make it bearable. Add some
non-fat dairy creamer + sugar. Just fluff,
it’ll go straight to my gut, to get
the caffeine past my tongue
and wake me, allowing me to see
what I could not when the alarm
first screamed.

I'm so passed overthinking
My overthinking over thinks
The thinking I'm overthinking
To the point I'm thinking over
What's over thought and I thought
I was over this
Just didn't think it over enough
dilemma dilemma
yeap
Hold on we're in for a bumpy ride
Airwaves collide
I'm pretty sure we've been here before
I'm confused
What was the thought
Somewhere amongst this chaos
I forgot the original thought
Now I'm overthinking
A thought that can't be found
Wait wait
Oh yes I remember now
The thought was simply
Peanut butter or jelly
On the last piece of toast
So both
Or one
But which
Rock
Paper
Scissors
How do I answer this
It's an impossible equation
1+1 is good
1+the other is good
1+2 makes 1
But I wanted to share it with you
So now there's not enough
Either way
So what do you prefer
Before my brain cells implode
Giving up on the hope
I'll ever make a decision
That will justify the reason
Why I'm overthinking
What to feed you for breakfast in bed
Maybe just coffee...
Wait which brand?
How strong?
More or less sugar?
Too much creamer!
**** it I'm going to work
Everything *****
When over-thought thoughts
Become thoughts we've been over
Overthinking themselves
Into non-existence
And I forget how
I started this conversation with myself
Or what it no longer pertains to
What was I talking about again?
Oh yeah do I have everything
What did I forget
Wallet
Keys
Phone
Socks
Shoes
Pants
Shirt
Necklace
Hat
30 minutes later it'll remind me
I woke up hungry
Couldn't decide what to feed myself
It's too late, I'm late for work

I walked into a 7-11 with you and  then all of the sudden I stopped and starred,
not because a loud and angry guy was screaming at his kids not to touch anything,
but because,
the coffee in the pots were cold and less than half full just sitting there on the counter
and no one was going to come in and drink it,
it would be left there to sit all night getting colder, until someone dumped them and cleaned them out, that's how I was before you came along,
I was a cold *** of coffee left over from that morning that no one wanted anymore,
you see, you seemed to drink the whole coffee *** before it even had a chance to get cold,
And if it did get cold,
You'd drink it anyway,

You got ecstatic over the thought of having caffeine in you to wake you up and make you lively again  
And I love that about you

You are different
You don't care about my non-coffee drinking past
You don't care about the dark rough grinds that took over me and made me undrinkable
You don't care if I was French pressed or keurig'd out
You still love me

You'd still love me if I was skim milk
If I was a skinny fat free latte
You love me now, even when I'm whole milk
If I became a double chocolaty chip
And I love that about you

You love my "I wanna white mocha latte",
and my "I need an iced French vanilla coffee from Dunkin' Donuts right now!",
And my "I am on a first date with this guy walking around with this amazing dude spilling a watered down small coffee all over my hands because I am so nervous, AND I DONT EVEN CARE BECAUSE I DONT KNOW IT YET BUT HE WILL BE MINE FOREVER!"

You're that kind of "I-don't-need- another-espresso-shot-but-I'll-take-an-extra-one-anyway-even-if-I­-do-have-to-pay-fifty-more-cents" type of guy,

Because in the end I realized paying that extra fifty cents was worth it and I'm glad I did
Because this is the best cup of coffee I've ever had and i don't want any other kind,

And I wish I would have tried this sooner and I want this feeling to last forever, because this feeling is nothing like I have ever felt before, it's like the first time sipping a different kind of coffee and not sure how it's going to taste and then all of a sudden your taste buds start going crazy and you lose your **** mind because it is so good,
And you want the cup of coffee to last forever, and it will,
Because you will keep going back to your most favorite and amazing cup of coffee for every day that you live

We went to Dunkin' Donuts again the other day,
We're known as the 7pm coffee drinkers,
One of the workers that's always there gave you two free to go cups,
We're there a lot....

The first thing I gave you was a small coffee with cream and sugar filled kiss,
the second thing was a gift card to a coffee shop,

I love you a latte
And you know i espresso a lot of feelings towards you
You're my 4 packs of sugar
My hazelnut and French vanilla creamer
You're the first thing I think of when I wake up and what keeps me up at night,
You and my coffee
Us and our coffee,
Surprising each other at work with a 16 oz coffee in our hands with a dumb smile on our faces

You are the reason I am happy
You are the reason I love coffee so much
You are the reason I wake up
You're the reason I ask if you want coffee
And the baristas at our school have an odd look on there face when I order not one but two cups of coffee and they can't help but wonder if there's someone they don't know about
And there is
It's you
And you are mine

i want to get to know you.
i remember thinking that when i first met you.
i wanted to get to know everything about you.

what you look like in the morning, what you look like at night, what your hair is like if you jokingly put it up in a towel, what your family is like, what words you use a lot.
what your favorite scent of febreeze is, what color you describe the sky as, what you think of when you see something beautiful.
what your favorite creamer is to put into your coffee or if you even like coffee, what you look like at 2am when you're feeling alone.
how you speak when you are angry in comparison to when you are sad (so i will never get the two mixed up), what you want as a tattoo, what you believe in.

i wanted to know everything that i could fall in love with.
and i learned that there is no one else i would rather know, than you.
because absolutely everything about you is intriguing, from what you look like in the morning to what you dare to believe in.

Sisimulan natin ang storya sa tatlo kami,
Siya, Si iyun at Si ako
Tinitimpla mo parang kape
Siya, siya Yung nagmimistulang asukal sa buhay mo
Siya, diba tapos na siya? Bakit bumabalik ka pa?
Siya?, siya na pinapaasa mo at ginagamit mo.
Siya, yung nagiging pangraos mo kapag nangngati ka.
Paano naman si iyun?
Si iyun yung nagmimistulang creamer sa buhay mo.
Isang palamuti kumbaga.
Isang nagbibigay kulay sa mata ng karamihan
Paano naman si ako?
Ako yung mapait, ako yung bitter kung tatawagin.
Ako yung pinaka-importante yun ang iyong sabi.
Anong sabi? Bitter ako?
Oo bitter ako, kasi hindi mo alam na mas better ako.
Eh paano kung ang siya ay nawala?
At yung si iyun ay wala naroon?
Pwede bang gampanan ni ako yung dalawang yun?
Pwede ka naman magkape kahit barako lang
Walang creamer, walang asukal
Pero may pait para magising ka naman.
Pero diba ang kape ngayon ay mas tinatangkilik
Kung mas matamis at mas makulay?
Dahil ang kape ngayon ay halos wala ng kape.
Pero babaliktarin ko ang epekto ng kape sayo
Magigising ka kapag wala ng ako

some winter mornings
last through the spring,
sweeping in between wind chimes
and dusting over windowsills,
until our bodies are numb
and our minds are racing
i don't feel pain in the winter time,
pain feels me,
all curled up in the fetal position
with fuzzy socks
and war paint
at the edge of my sheets
december never stings,
it burns.
a softer,
quieter,
gentler
kind of agony
that whispers tauntingly
through the shower curtains
at 5 am and says
"why did you bother getting out of bed?"
oh and how that cold, cutting voice
gets stuck inside your head...
at least until spring takes
it's last cool breath

Everyone writes about coffee
The embedded love
The innate passion
That’s brewed strong
That’s filtered long
Everyone talks about coffee and love
Everyone compares coffee to love
Everyone forgets its natural taste
Everyone forgets its bitter taste
Its rancid lingerance
Its putrid flavor
Everyone forgets to write about coffee creamer
The artificial sweetener
The true romancer

Are you aware
of the music you make, Cricket?
Can the grass be ticklish to your toes?
Tickled like trapped foes.

Toads and toad bumps.
Frogs salted on salted Slugs.
Creamer for the chocolate night,
Are you alive?

Sentimental over fingerprints,
my wings wandered
three centuries ago.
Where they went nobody knows.

Three lights captured in my eye:
one is the bedroom
one is the trumpet
one is the theatre

Hip bones have red suns.
Flowers crawl on skyscrapers.
Barns and bugs with spotted bellies.

Cracked a mirror on my foot,
wish it stayed the evening
and for supper.

Could have gone home
but instead, harvested Winter
in Mexico.