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Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018
╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ '✿⊱╮
Puds are long, vanilla rich
Custard honey-sweet
Poured down from the liquid sun
Caramelised crust
turns nut-brown
and bubbling
Spoon!
╰⊰✿⊱╮
Tenth Epulaeryu! ^-^
I'm not gonna lie,  I liked it! The custard was like honey, very smooth but
I found that it's a bit TOO egg-y for me.
Then again, it could just be the cafe I went to at the time.
I'm open to trying it again, though I admit, I'm not in a rush.
One day! ^-^
Lyn ***
Gale L Mccoy Jul 2018
find me
in the corner of the local cafe
cling fast to sanctuary
aura of creativity
illusinary productivity
idealized possibility
i would rather bury myself
in it's walls forever
than leave
Özcan Sh Jul 2018
She was like a book
When I read her words
I sink into her world

A world in which I always want to stay
A world in which we can drink our café in peace
A world where nobody puts stones on our way

I don't know
When the last chapter comes
But i'm afraid that the last chapter
Will separate us forever.
Ron Gavalik Jul 2018
A young writer
sat in my regular chair
inside the bookstore cafe.
He banged at the keys of his typer,
angry and without mercy.
Once he drained his coffee cup
the writer kept ******* at the rim
for a few remaining drops.
After staring blankly at the wall
for several minutes, the writer packed up
his supplies into a ratty backpack,
and walked out of the joint.
Finally, I figured, my chair had enough
of the games. It felt my presence
nearby and thus decided
we had sins to paint.

-Ron Gavalik
If you dig my work, please visit my Patreon. Patreon.com/rongavalik
I knew the first swallow of vinegar salt-water memory
Would not leave me in peace
But awaken my wolf’s hunger
For pensive penance

Which leaves me thrashing my boots, khakis, coat,
Sweater, watch,
Suddenly immersed in the pure sapphire blue,
Of my past.

Coffee shops, Like brains,
Mock the idea of ridged conformity

People of all shapes and sizes
All makes and models
All styles and varieties
Wander through looking for single refreshment
The background weight of memories caught in my coat
Pull me down until I’m sputtering, splashing,
In the days I've lived,
Or days I've just watched.

But no day as no person in need of quenching
Stops for long
Each just here to slow down my day
Just here to do me death by a thousand charms
Treacherous tenacity of “what if” at the counter
Tears a hole inside my heart
Eden S Lucf Jun 2018
You crawl into my heart
so that I can't let go
So that I can't forgive him
So that I continue to love-
No, so I can continue to obsess
over him

Almost every beautiful thing he said
Had you written all over it
Lies
Lies
And more lies
That I couldn't stop shedding tears
Cause for some reason
I knew
The cherished memories I want
Were all in the past

But the lines you planted
And the truth I saw
Were two very different things
I have yet to forgive him
There's not much to this poem considering it how rustie I am at it. But I enjoy writing poetry if you can even call this that.
Alec May 2018
Lost in Paris,
But stuck here at home.
Envisioning the cobblestone streets,
Stopping at cafes to escape the heat.
Laughing and smiling in Paris.
The mental trip is a need,
Wanting to be
Lost in Paris.
But stuck here instead,
In Cali.
Aa Harvey May 2018
7 pm wake up call


Today I had the strangest dream.
There was you and I, working side by side,
In a café down the street.
I guess we were on equal pay.
I started work and there you were,
Sat with me until it started to rain.


I think it might have been in France;
Maybe Paris, maybe right where we are.
We were just talking and having a laugh;
I hadn’t been there long, but lovers find their car.
You knew the café like the back of your hand;
I knew right then and there, that I was becoming your man.
One day I heard you singing a song;
Since then you and I were getting along.


Another round table served, on another day;
We had not yet fallen in love.
There was another room, an outdoor room, beyond the main café.
A place for him and her to sit and talk and find their way.
It had extra tables, with umbrellas
And stacked up chairs against the wall,
For when it was busier than it seemed today.


There was the boss who said “Allo, allo.”
His wife, the owner, I saw here around,
I guess that she would come and go.
Another waitress was cleaning up
And you and I were just talking and falling into love.


You were sitting on a bench
And as we talked, I kept you warm, by holding you next to me.
I think we had always been destined,
Because as I looked at you and we each knew,
You began to lean on in…


I think this could have been our first kiss;
I’m not quite sure I remember it all.
I’m painting pictures as I speak.
I am afraid they will all soon disappear,
So before they do, my one last view,
Of our café will be spoken of here.


You were dressed in black and white.
I was waiting on your words.
We were sober, but we were becoming us;
We were so happy in this moment, so drunk on love.
I was sat smoking a rolled cigarette,
In a wooden wheelbarrow that fitted two.
This wooden statue was our bed;
A feature of the outdoor room.
The wheelbarrow grew in time, as did our love;
By the end of that night, we were true.


It was the middle of the eve;
The moment was right, to say it right,
I think you were made for me.


Then later our boss and his wife they spoke.
He was annoyed at the young couple treating the café like a joke.
“When are they coming back in?
There is work that needs to be done!”
She said “Relax darling, they are having fun
And can’t you see that they are in love?”
And with that, the boss he simply rolled his eyes;
She rolled her eyes too and then they both smiled.
“Oh my love, it has been a while,
Since our old café had a new romance.”


You and I were sat becoming one and the same,
In our oversized wooden wheelbarrow,
Hand in hand in the rain.


(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
tender flame May 2018
mornings brew a coffee-colored universe:
milky way of latte mixes,
spiral galaxies whirl on the caffeine-intoxicated mug
ground beans fell like the Geminid showers,
the aroma danced with rising planets,
and swirling reverse black hole of sweet bitterness lets you taste warmth and satisfaction.

like a shot of caffé espresso,
i would never think twice drinking:
though it scorches the mouth
i'll take the stellar influx,
just give you the taste of heaven
that the cosmic dreams only had.
— to that mug in universe's album art, thank you for inspiring me at three a.m.
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