Sitting in Starbucks
drinking sweet coffee from Christmas red cap.
Not many people inside. Table for two, me and I,
music in background, quite nice,
at least I don't mind, but who does mind
anything,
when festive time has just arrived?

Enjoy your coffee, my friend,
but in the meantime, have a look outside
the window,
at rough sleepers and their hands,
open and empty.
This year
Christmas came early again.

I'm waiting in the Starbucks line-
Homework due in an hour.
I realize my clothes don't match.
I also realize this is a lot like
what love feels like.
A letdown.
A constant urgency.
Insecurity that a deadline will not be made.
Making small stupid decisions based on your addictions.
Then the coffee I sip tastes like ****
all because the line to get it was super long-
too much ice and not enough coffee.
I drink it too fast and it makes me sick-
I'm thinking it was because of the pills
not so much the coffee this time.
And I continue to think about love.
How I never want to take that many pills again.
How I never want to play tic tac toe
with every negative emotion I have
I don't think I ever want to find love again.
Because this type of destruction should not happen more than once-
but to me, it's happened more than that.
Even the worst things in history are often repeated.
That's what being in love with you feels like-
A used history book too worn and used
to even show any inherent value-
But you love history and what it has to offer.
So you tape back the broken spine
in hopes of salvaging what you love so much.
But it's never enough to make it readable
it's never enough to use for notes later on
or to read your favorite chapter
and all you can think about is how wonderful it once was.
When you were pulling back each page
so filled with joy about what the next had to offer.
You had a lot to offer-
but all you saw was your broken spine
and torn apart pages.
I wrote my name inside the front cover
etched in pen so everyone would know it was mine-
but I guess my name faded and now it's all just smeared ink
you can't even spell out what it says anymore
maybe because I lost myself inside of you.
I'm again looking at how my clothes don't match
and how much time I took to put this outfit on
but the lighting in my room is dim
and when the actual sunlight shows more things
than the darkness of faded counterfeit wattage
you start to see the things you're missing-
like yourself.
You would like to send someone out to find you
maybe your parents or your friends
but they're all too busy in their own lives
so you look for yourself-
by yourself
and you wonder how you got this way.
How two nights ago you happen to be the same person
you were six years ago-
even the worst things in history are often repeated.
I'm starting to think taking this medicine
wasn't such a good idea.
But the only reason I did it in the first place
was because of how crazy I felt with you.
I didn't want to be crazy anymore-
I wanted love to work for once.
I guess you can't teach yourself something you've never seen
like how I taught myself to swim by watching my brother
and I taught myself how to tie my shoes watching spongebob.
No one ever showed me love-
no one ever put on that play for my young eyes to see
so now I'm searching and searching for something
when I don't even know what the **** I'm looking for.
I think I would rather look for myself instead-
I'm sure I never want to look for love again
but what happens when I try to love myself?
How can you achieve something so foreign?
God could be a fat, black, lesbian jew
and how would we know, we've never actually seen God..
That's kind of how I feel about love.
It could be a giant hurricane destroying everything
because that's the only love I've ever known.
I can read about it until my eyes are heavy-
I can watch it in movies until makeup is stained on my cheeks
but none of it ever means anything to me
in a world where I never mean anything to you.
Love is kind of like starbucks-
it's convenient because it's everywhere
and everyone is waiting in line to get a taste
most of the time it's not what you expected
and it's usually just bitter-
but sometimes you get lucky
and everything is sweet-
the way you wanted it to be
until it's empty.
I am empty.

"*******'s my favorite...
when I picture my favorite babe
she gotta look good in that way."
"He wants anorexia."
"That space between the thighs!"
"Sometimes you gotta punch a ***** in the stomach."
"My **** doesn't bend back- it's just straight."
"Pulling their hair, I bet they like that."
"This guys got his ***** tangled!"*
"Oh god, I can't talk about this anymore."

Do, re, tiring **me.
Fa, So, Latte sounds good.
A sale on tea?
Do ti la "So, how are your scales going?"
My teacher calls; he wants to know.

"FAr from REady." I admit.
I tried to practice steady,
but starbucks had a sale today, so I quit.

"You'll never make the grade like that;
Devote every hour" He says with a glower.
"Go practice your bow. Coffee can wait."
He's right of course, but I still take the bait.

How's a coffee-enthusiast like me
expected to practice enthusiastically?
What's a violinist without caffeine to keep his lights turned to "go"?
When Starbucks conspires to take all my hard earned DOugh?

Coffee stains on these lips you stained
Your breath I can still feel, whispering 
"I'll never leave"
But promises are feigned to be broken 
Deigned with trust, words that matter unspoken
Fate played its twist, karma hit me like I deserved this
Past loves I slaughtered, they'll be laughing now
"I hope he'll die a loner"

These lips are stained
With more than just coffee
They are stained and tainted
With the ghost of your memory.
I still recall, last fall,
When you took the words 
I love you and 
Breathed life into them
As you whispered them gently
In my ear
And stamped your name
Underneath my rib cage
I remember how sincere
You sounded,
How so willingly 
I plucked them from the air
And surrounded
Myself, in their warmth.
I'll never forget, 
The yield of regret,
That comes with not 
Building up walls
And putting up a safety net
For all of those times you
Let me slip
Between your fingers
And the pain it still lingers.
Your promises were made
Empty and broken
The lies and deception
Apparent yet unspoken.

Life's expectancy to decree what I believed 
That our love was bound by fate
If only I didn't get my coffee that day
We would never have met
And I won't be dealing with this heartache
I hear but I can't see
Blinded by your Iloveyou's 
Those 7 letters, three words will be the death of me
Clinging on to hope, hoping you'll be my last
But like the others you left, 
For the first time, leaving me broken
Helpless and leaving me wanting more
Was it even real for you at all?

I thought that maybe
I had finally found the one
But past lovers
They too, had upped and gone
And I'm left thinking
And wondering
*Is there something wrong,
With me?

Every time I walk into the line I can only hope to run into you like I've  done before.
Your smile brightens up my day and
In your conversation I could forever stay.
Will you be my Starbucks lover?
We could grab some coffee and lattes,
talk about our lives and mistakes.

Cause I want to be the peppermint to your mocha, the pumpkin spice to your latte, the caramel to your macchiato.
We could compliment each other.
I just want your sweet company and I'll wait in line patiently.

Big sister,
You smell like coffee....
but I showered twice!!