I regret not walking out on him.
Oh, how much I wish I had.

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.

She sits on the terrace under the curtain of the night sky with about a dozen stars gazing at her charmingly and the bright old full moon watching her with curiosity, as the gentle breeze whispers to her.  With her old worries and new wounds circling her mind, she drinks in the beauty of the night and tries to get high each night dreaming of a bright future.  Despite the days getting awfully long and out of her control, her life dwindling and swirling in uncertainty, she is her only anchor as no-one no more tells her anything she wishes to hear.  Her sleep robbed, she has become a woman of the night as exhausted and spent she is. But she still yearns and works towards the dreams she believes in and takes solace in the beauty of the night.

You say
you're sorry for hurting me in the past
and regret doing some things to me.
I know not what you mean.

You say
I am the reason you want to change
and wish things had been different.
I know not what you mean.

Remembering the way I saw,
we were jolly good buddies.
I know not when you hurt me.
I know not how I'm your reason.

A good friend I will be forever.
Expect nothing more from me.
But when you speak in ambiguity,
I don't find it in me to say it out.

My tender heart clenches in pain.
Tears roll down on it's own accord.
Why do your simple words
Tear apart my heart so ruthlessly?
Why do you hurt me so deeply?