her world is not laced with sugar and milk
and yet she decided to put them inside.
a flavor of alienated, saccharine silk,
her otherwise pitch-black morning coffee had died
maybe, just maybe, because of him.
his world levitates on honey-like force,
sticky sweetness reigns tender lips,
one evening, a bitter intruder enters with no remorse,
he stepped into her world with long regretful sips,
eager to be enchanted by this “triste malheur”,
maybe, just maybe, because of her.
they were two kindred coffee spirits,
one leaving a sugarcoated sphere,
the other one becoming a brave pioneer.
although neither of them liked
the other one’s caffeine-induced sight,
they still thought of each other,
either on sweet, milky mornings or disgustingly bitter nights.
© fey (30/10/20)
One friend of mine really hates plain black coffee when there is no respectable amount of sugar and milk inside of it. I, on the other hand, rarely drink the mentioned baverage with any of the additional ingredients. But today both of us drank the exact type of coffee the other one of us prefered, without knowing. I prepared mine in the morning and thought "Nah, why not" and put sugar and milk in it. It was disgusting. He prepared his coffee on the evening and didn't implement anything fancy. He also said that it was digusting. We thought of each other subconsciously while consuming our weird coffees and after finding out about it, it was was such a funny coincidence that I decided to write a poem about it.
