The universe spins and swirls.
Mixing dreams both light and dark.
My ship's hull darts through
Molten caffeine.
I sail in search of the constellation
Closest to your lips.
Like a myth the coffee's steam rises.
Mounds of sugar crystal urchins
scrape the bottom of my ship.
Some frozen in place.
The horror of old wives tales I've heard.
The center of the cup hotter than hot.
Stories of no survivors.
Circling and spiraling in the center
Of a ceramic mug.
I can no longer tell how high the steam
Rises.
I now see that the stories are true.

Through the lens of my telescope.
I see it.
The nebula of your face.
It won't be long now.
Steadfast.
The curve of your lips.
I am now one with the universe!

french toast for breakfast
I’m excited to try a
new type of coffee.

pre-extraction nerves
found a seat to ground myself
anxiety spiked

Sunday morning.
A fragrant storm  
in a coffee cup.

today I drank my coffee alone
they sky was grey
it was neither hot nor cold
the cafe was noisy
and my latte was strong

today I briefly felt alive
a stranger talked to me
he was Hungarian,
but nice
we had a laugh
and I looked over his CV

today I was in town
and the barista smiled at me

my hair was messy
my brain was foggy
but we had a good time
I, my coffee and me.

Coffee drips blue to the touch
Dark on its own brewed as such
I take one sip it’s over by the next
I take one cup,
And the three follow to keep me vexed.

I don’t understand what is happening
Why my dependence on caffeine is rising
Why I need that cold brew
Oh! But my coffee
That sweet drip of toffee!

Kiss.
When you kissed me,
With my eyes still closed,
I said to you:
"I have never had a first kiss."

When I opened my eyes to see your reaction,
You were gone.
And I remembered.


Beds.
Beds are dangerous,
Life-threatening traps.
The sheets: a barbed binding,
Encasing and suffocating.
The covers:
A panic-soaked hug
filled with hyperventilation. (Get off of me!)
The pillow: rocky ground and spinal trouble.


Dreams.
Dreams are non-existent nightmares.
Burning houses and drowning lakes.
Warm open night air in freezing water.
Being locked inside a trunk.
Fields of fireflies.
Cicada's friction.
You.
Always you.


Cafe.
Coffee reminds me of you.
The sweet warmth of cinnamon.
Cool refreshing milk.
Bitter richness of coffee.

A subtle hint of scented lavender.
A pinch of ***** chilli.
Honey, a name as much as a flavor.
Vanilla, pure.


****.
Vulnerable.
On display.
Exposed.

I removed my clothes first,
But you kept yours on.

Disgusted by the sight...

I've always enjoyed a good cup of coffee,
Which is why I've gotten really good at making it.
My slow solo morning sips,
It was the only time my coffee got the attention I believed it deserved.
But then you took your first sip of my coffee.
It was a slow sweet simple sip,
Yet my coffee seemed to find a place where it was truly meant to be enjoyed.