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jg Aug 31
Desde que nací, he mirado a miles de personas a los ojos,
miles de iris con diferentes matices, verdes, cafés y hasta azules.

Soy amante del café, aunque confieso no saber mucho, no sé qué grado de acidez exacto deba tener, como para que se considere un buen café, pero siempre me ha gustado simple; oscuro y sin azúcar.

Pero, cuando te conocí, me di cuenta que el café que siempre me ha gustado, ahora lo encontraba en tu mirada.
Si, así es. Tienes unos ojos del color café perfecto, del color de la tierra y de la arena, del color de aquellas tazas de café que me calentaban en las mañanas frías, del color que combina con tu piel morena.  Ahora tu mirada era mi taza de café, mi nicotina, mi adicción, mi necesidad por calor y energía.

Pero no me acordaba que las cosas cambian, que la vida es fría, y que igual que con mis tazas de café, nuestras mirada se volvieron frías, aguadas y sin sabor

Ahora, me gusta el café un poco más oscuro y con un toque de azúcar para endulzar mi pobre alma, aquella que solo busca el desvelo de cada noche, una más fría que la otra….
Caitlin Aug 6
The first time I saw him, it was through the glass window of the space that he moved into right around the corner. I thought it was a weird spot to move into but shrugged it off because it was none of my business.

The first time I met him, he was wearing the exact pattern of red and black plaid that I’ve been looking for whenever I shop. I stared at it and felt a little defeated that someone found it before I did! But I made no comment.

The first time I spoke to him, I thought nothing much of him at first. the words I used to describe him were “ordinary, typical, run-of-the-mill”. He was…simple. he spoke like he would steal those cheesy catchphrases like “she was like a shot of espresso” — which is what Andrew Garfield said about Emma Stone. And so I walked out of there as if it was just another Monday.

Several Mondays and cheesy catchphrases later, that little place around the corner that was made of brick started to feel more comfortable, and I saw him more often. Slowly, I realized that there is some charm in simplicity. Eventually, I stopped using the words “ordinary, typical, run-of-the-mill”, and I started using the word: familiar. There is so much comfort in the familiar.

At this point in time I seem to always find myself back at that familiar little brick place around the corner. at the end of each day, I go there hoping to find solace. And I always do. If I was into those cliché phrases I would describe it as a warm cup of hot chocolate after a long, rainy drive. It’s a fireplace during a snowstorm. But saying those cheesy catchphrases would be really lame of me, so…

If I were to put into words how I now feel about this person… This must be how it feels when people are looking for a new place to move into. They have this image of their dream house or fantasy apartment. maybe they picture a place with a marble countertop, a dining table made of mahogany, and a ceiling high enough to hang a glass chandelier from. But then, just as they had given up on searching for that dream place, they come across this little cottage made of brick and hardwood floors. There is a leather couch in the middle. They take a seat. Suddenly, they can picture their life there so clearly: nothing but the pitter-patter of the rain drumming on the window pane, the sound of the coffee machine running in the background, and a slice of chocolate cake waiting for them in the refrigerator. It was the familiar feeling of comfort after a tiring day. It was so far from what they had first pictured, but they are absolutely certain that they want to make a home here.

That is how he feels to me now. So far from what I had pictured, but certainly where I want to be at the end of each day. But the funniest part of all of this is: He was the one that arrived there in the first place. He was the one who moved into that quaint little building around the corner. He was the one who found me. And I am the one waiting here; hoping he finds a home within me.
If you think this is about you,

it is.
gracie Dec 2021
2144 5th Avenue
nestled between red brick buildings
Harlem Blues Café, the gathering grounds
of quiet scholars and romantics chasing isms
for minds, fuel for weary eyes

all wanting the bitter taste, the smoking atmosphere
the burn, burn of espresso grounds
wafting on
idle chatter
        of indie darlings with pierced *******
clinging to t-shirts, jeans hugging hip bones
old men who bark at their tables, sputter
over the NEW YORK POST—an 80’s *****
passed away mysteriously—and suits
lingering in the doorway, cherry cigarettes
aglow in pursed
I am taking an order, slipping out bills
from a drawer and the woman
orders a latte “no foam” which is a flat white
but I won’t correct a customer

See, I am the barista of your dreams
your friendly caffeine pusher who brews
the strongest or perhaps soft love like
milk froth
        but I still forget about the foam
and now
you have to spoon it
                             off the top
Her hands were busy making coffee

The cafe her home as much as her work place

Idle hands is a disastrous plan

Time unproductive is time wasted

This much, she understands

She is ever efficient in the kitchen

Wash, dry, put away, organise

A worker's favourite routine memorised

Her hands are making coffee for a patron

They take the coffee without saying hi

The honest hard work of the waitress  

Gets ignored time after time
they take the coffee without saying hi
aviisevil Jul 2021
how many times have I sat in a cafe alone

empty chairs to keep me company.

with a brave face, and tensed brows

trying to look past the hazy blur that
seems to have caught me in trance.

sipping on the bitter coffee to remind me there's something to live for

and finish before I leave here, be gone for maybe what could be my last time

of sitting alone in a cafe, of people and chatter to keep me company,

I used to like it here.
when was the last time you enjoyed yourself ?
Shane Gilligan Apr 2021
I am a boulder.

I used to go to the beach to look for rocks
There was a million rocks along the seaside
Sometimes I’d pick a sea rock up from the sand

one in a million

the rock didn't care.
but I am different for I am a boulder.
like from avatar
Shanghai Mar 2021
It was nine
The weather was cold
I went to the classic café
And ordered my favorite coffee

Afterwards, I saw you in the corner
Who would have thought
We will meet again
After years

In the same place
Where we met once
And decided to part ways
Daivik Nov 2020
Drops of rain
On the window pane
Fall down in sweet misery

Sipping tea
Transports me
To a place where I've never been

The waiter calls
I don't seem to care
Neither does he

The clock has stopped
and the world has paused
So what ,if only momentarily

At café de tranquillité‌‌
Andrus Nov 2020
Maybe one day
We’d run into each other
Outside a cafe like this
In the heart of Paris

Two strangers who have
been in love for years

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