Tell me,
What kind of coffee can make me stay awake
While I'm dreaming of you?!
☕

First sip of morning coffee and you will feel love is real.

My coffee
is never sweet enough.
Even if I put five sugars,
it still tastes awfully.

I once tried ten,
and it didn't work.
I wonder why.

My coffee
is never sweet enough.
I guess that's what happens
when you're fed up with life.

In an aesthetic coffee shop,
Scribbling away with glee.
Drinking to my imagination,
Is it only me?

In this aesthetic coffee shop,
Where lovers often meet.
I hear fragments
of what their life has been.

Talking over coffee,
They think they are strangers to me.
I observe,I know,
I share their happiness, a witness to their vows.

Sadness and pain,
Sometimes the outcome may be.
But they still come to this coffee shop,
Unknowingly drinking with me.

I am not the only one,
Voila,it's not just me!
There are other artists in this coffee shop,
Observing and scribbling like me.

i watched you walk by
the fog on this window
nose on the floor
eyes there too yet
somewhere long ago.

i watched your leather
jacket-back heave as if
holding up a box of lead
but your arms were empty
save for a twitch now, then.

i watched you blend in
with the waves of people
like a squeeze of paint
(or drop of ink)
dissolving in a glass of water.

you biting your cheek till it rips,
your fingers pushing back the skin
on your nails - it stay(n)ed with me
as this smell of ground coffee does.
you are cracking, bit by bit.

... and i am left to wonder
how long till you shatter?
who will catch you when you fall?

I drive myself to the cafe
Cracking a smile as I let my fear fade
Let the music in my ears take me away
It may have been cold, but I was living in the shade

Working up the courage to drink alone
Never allowing myself to enjoy what I love
Freezing in fear, I turn to stone
But today I drive myself to rise above

To a place with voices, fresh pastries, warm coffee, smiling faces
Swirling, twirling, I'm surrounded by choices
Wood and marble, rough wool and soft laces

Pouring a cup into the depth of my soul
I breath out and finally remember how to let go
Can't I find my own way to be whole?
Filled with coffee and music, I can finally flow ~

...i flicker my petals, now damp and tight, my coffee is done...the timing is right.

i think of you down between my thighs, i dream of your moist, precious eyes.

you are so young and so daring yet, i stroke your mound like a private pet.

a woman, a girl, a fantasy....i may not have you, but i sure can dream.

--by Alexandra Eames

that dark black coffee
bitter on my tongue
it twists my mouth up
like you used too

with subtle flavors
sharp hazelnut undertones
like your soft curls
use to smell in the morning

I wake up to one cup
or maybe three or four
to fill up space that you left
now in my empty quiet bed