i got in line to get a coffee
and noticed a familiar set of strong shoulders
you turned around surprised
we had one of those
'i haven't seen you in forever'
type of looks
you asked me to sit with you
and before we knew it
we were talking how we used to
without even meaning to

you looked up from the table
and itched the back of your neck
just like you used to do
when you were nervous
"what happened to us? we had the kind of love that people made movies about."
i didn't know whether to laugh
or cry
"well you gave me the type of heartbreak that people write about."
i miss the way
coffee used to taste

i used to take the dregs
at the end of the morning
pot and pour them into a
steel tumbler

mix in handfuls of
refined white sugar
to fight the bitter
flavor i had not yet
learned to accept

then it went into a large
glass receptacle with
terminally stained
interior corners

mixed with milk until
pale and creamy
left to sit in the fridge
for a week

drunk from shimmering
crystalline glasses at
any hour of day or night
because consequences
didn't matter to me

my summer coffee tastes
different now
not so watered down
and drunk early
from plastic cups
through straws that crack

just because
it's there, not
because i took
the time to make it

and i miss something a lot deeper
than the way my coffee used to taste
but i cannot for the life of me
remember what it is
copyright 4/19/18 b. e. mccomb
They Mourn.
Dressed in night:
They carry
Through paper thin doors.
They cross
A threshold into the unknown.
They mourn
The loss of self.

And in the morning
They wake
Anew, with a fragrant scent
They penetrate;
Morning coffee, the spaces within
They wake
From mourning.
They wake
They wake
They wake for you.

M•(e). Díaz
Blinking over plastic frames
She had music in her ears.
Nursing a steamy Costa Rica,
She was scrawling words in margins.
Flashing her vanilla gloss smile,
She then spoke to you so wistfully
In her very own acid-washed prose.
And though they had an imitated style,
You gladly drank them in with your Puerto Rico
For she said she wrote that one for you.
@LadyofRavenhill 2017
haley 6d
it's snowing in april and
the bluejays have abandoned their nest to
welcome the newcoming of spring;
we have no furniture, sweetheart,
but we do have time. last night i
held your cheek in my tiny palm and
asked if you wanted me to rest
in your arms forever -
"of course", you soothed,
and i brewed cherry coffee in the morningtime
to remind myself
that this life is good.
we have no money, sweetheart,
but we do have time. we do have time.
just a short one.
Seanathon Apr 11
You shake me, because of you.

You hold me, not with arms available, but in captivation.

You fear me, perhaps not because of me, but because of who I am becoming.

I respect you, not only because of him, but because of a gentleman's decorum.

This is... Nerve wracking.

This is not yet... And yet more so for me.

And I thank you for that.

But what is this for you?

Nothing perhaps.

Nervous by Gavin James. Calm me down and make sense of me. Because who you are puts me out of sorts in the best possible way.

I'm glad that you exist. Really.
Umesh Acharya Apr 11
I miss the taste of your lips
With every sip of coffee

I miss the fragrance of your body
With every breath, I breathe

I miss the good old days
With every sleepless night, I survive

Oh, my beautiful nightmare!
Oh, my darling,
Let me love you
Till my fingertips memorize you.
#Love #devotion #you #lips #coffee #Missyou #Breath #Night #Survive #Nightmare #beautiful #memorize #Wordporn
Cjf Dec 2016
but baby I can be something you need

I'm blind and the liquid fire that goes down my throat taste better than any kiss I've ever had
or maybe it just taste better than the bitterness
I want your lips
I crave you
I want see the Sun for the first time

I can feel you but I can't see you

but how is it that you make me feel
electric eccentric ecstatic
how do you light flames so bright I still can see them even when my eyes are closed
the ocean doesn't have a fighting chance against the wildfire you started within me

mend me into a cup so when you drink you think of me

you bring wildflowers into my dull forest green grass
I've never seen peonies and sunflowers
and daisys and hyrdrogenias
look so in peace
and you make my heart beat in time in what seems like forever
I could smell these flowers even after they died
and the Sun decided she was done with them
but I never cared much for flowers

when you leave idc what I'm remembered for I just want to be remembered*

if you go like the moon says good bye to his morning star
then please remember the way it felt at 21 to still believe some things would come back
and the Sun would say hello to her moon
before he left
trace the feel of your lips the way they form into smile
and remember the pattern
we're not ever getting 18 back
and I'll write you sweet nothings
on napkins I'll leave in a diner
where we once got ice cream
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