I've lost a piece of myself today
I've left pieces of me here and there
and maybe everywhere.
Can I rebuild myself?

A jagged piece is all that's left of me
It has sharp edges and cuts deeply
Don't mean for it to happen
Just trying to guard this last piece of me.

If I collect all the pieces I've lost of mine
Can I rebuild this broken heart in time?
Or I could leave every ripped off piece of me
and just guard the last, sharp, jagged piece and fly free?

I hate your style
I now hate brown
I hate your smile
I hate how you make me feel down.

I hate your mannerisms
I now hate wine
I hate your euphemisms
I hate how you make me feel lost in time.

I hate your tattoos
I now hate the park
I hate your cool shoes
I hate how you make me feel so dark.

I hate that I cant hate you truly.
I hate that I'll love you forever
I hate that you love me so cruelly.
I hate that I still love you however.

If I give this to you,
tell me what would you do?
Would you treat it like a treasure,
love it beyond any scope or any measure?
Would you cradle it gently,
keep guard like a knightly sentry?
Can you nurture it slowly,
patch up each peace that's holy?
Could you keep my heart beating,
or are you also fleeting?

so I noticed that we both drink coffee.
just like anyone, we both like ours a certain way.
i like mine sweeter, with just the aftertaste of coffee there.
caramel, sugar, creamer.
i think about when i’ll have my next cup, and the idea of it alone makes me happy.
i don’t care what time of day i have it, i almost always have a cup.
i make time for my coffee.
it might be safe to say i think you like your coffee black.
you might add just the smallest touch to soften its bitter taste, but never too much.
sometimes i think you just pour it and carry on, as though it’s nothing important at all.
as though all it is, is just some quick fix.
like you just want to get it over with.
we drink it in two different ways.
i drink it slowly.
i note every flavor in every sip, i enjoy it.
i note the warmth it brings me.
i like it all hours of the day.
you drink it quickly.
quicker than me, at least.
you don’t care if it burns your tongue, or perhaps you’re used to the pain.
you accept it.
you never let it last, you move on to something else soon after.
i lay in your bed, watching your eyes as they skim the screen in front of you.
your mind is somewhere else.
i savor the moments you look my way, if even for a second, and smile at me.
i wonder if you even notice them.
i feel your laugh vibrate my bones, making the hair on my arms stand on end.
do i make you feel at all?
i reflect on it every time i drink my coffee.
i think about it with each and every sip, taking my time.
something tells me that you don’t do the same.
after all, it's just coffee.
but i put my all into this coffee.
i think you like your coffee black.