His voice resonates
like an old record player
filling silent rooms with songs.
He could charm bees out of hives
with his silver tongue
melting me into honey.
And those brilliant eyes
dotted with stars
stealing my muddled words away.
I imagine his kisses tasting like warm coffee
on a cold monday morning
enthralling this somber soul,
But who could tame a fox?
Between sips of black
Coffee and pulls on a tight
Rollie, I watch a man on my street
Hoovering his windowsills and
Wonder if I'm doing adulthood all wrong.
Should I hoover my windowsills?
Should I own windowsills?
Should I own a hoover?
I should probably own a hoover.
I should probably hoover the flat.
Or at least my bedroom floor.
Where does my flatmate keep the hoover again?
I could write a poem about this.
The man shuts his window.
The rollie is gone.
The coffee is gone.
I go inside and forget
My cigarette stub
On the front door step.
It's a strange feeling
Hard to identify
It starts with butterflies in your stomach
Then comes the giant down hill on the rollercoaster
It's a total mix
One part Adrenaline and two parts caffeine
Makes you frantically search for the right emotion
But you mind is in the clouds
Slowly, but surely falling down to earth
I'm falling and
falling and falling
You are hit with the brick wall of realization
I fell in love
coffee shop dazes in the rain
knit sweaters that I always forget
the clatter of change on the table
mindless small talk for hours
my fingers fidgeting with my phone
a second order of sweetness
another dozen moments of silence
trying desperately to keep the conversation going
your hand constantly on your phone
and I don’t know what I am doing anymore
all I know is that I might be desperate
because I have no idea if you notice
that over sips of coffee my eyes wander to you
all your denim and your scuffed up sneakers and your bed hair
I notice the lines in your hands and the hollow of your throat
and I keep biting my tongue to keep myself from saying
I kinda wanna hold your hand in mine
I kinda wanna push the hair out of your eyes
I kinda want you all to myself
I clench my hands in my lap
knowing that you are inches from me
knowing that I can hold your heartbeat if I could
knowing that you will never allow it
and maybe I will stay here
right across from you in coffee shops
trying to hide my smile behind tentative sips
knowing that I do not have a place with you.
The taste of the coffee I had the morning you left
still lingers in my mouth,
it was dark but delicate.
When you left,
I had to act like it was fine because
you only love me when it's silent.
I wonder how can you act like I'm nobody when
The photographs are no longer hanging,
the writings are no longer clear.
It has turned old and bronzy,
because you’re no longer here.
and it's the best feeling.
Awake at odd times,
eating chips between yawns
waiting for the end to come
as I don't want to greet the sun yet.
I haven't had any rest
eyes closing as I open them
coffee went empty again
the hours ending fast.
I don't know how long it will last
tomorrow is going to stretch longer
I'll need energy to be there.
One more hour more,
I've said that before.
My body is rebelling
As I keep trying.
I yearn for the deep sleep ,
the one I won't get to keep.