"macchiato" poems
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.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 12:35 PM UTC
I must’ve known you in a past life
You feel so familiar
Even when I didn’t know that I knew you
I knew
There was something in the way
The warmth radiated from your skin
Caramel macchiato I drank you in
The baritone of your laugh
You were so familiar
Yet we had just met
Your silhouette
Was one I had seen before
But not in this lifetime
Were you mine in another one?
Slipping through my fingers like silk
Always one grasp away
But you’re never gone
The way you remain like the rain
Soaking grass in spring
And I’m thirsty for you
For endless nights talking in darkness
Till light came in again
And never running out of words
But even as we spoke it felt so deja vu
Don’t I already know you?
How do you know me so well?
Like your code is written into my cells,
I feel you on a molecular level
Your soul intertwined in mine
But never fully actualized in this timeline
Years and years come and go
But your “aww” and chuckle never fade,
I hear it like you smiled that way you do
Like it was yesterday
Time a construction that doesn’t function
In the realities in which I know you
I have known you
You’ve been mine and I yours
In lifetimes before
In present, eyes closed I manifest
My me’s and your you’s
Subconscious whispers traveling
Through time and space
Dimensions unknown
But I know
It’s you and you know
It’s me too.
May 17, 2021
May 17, 2021 at 5:00 AM UTC
it took a second for titanic to hit an iceberg
it took 24 hours to sum up your day
it will take a few minutes to make your caramel macchiato drink
it will take you a second or two to finish up your lightened cigarette
and it will only take a minute to brighten up someone else's day
but how long will it take me to accept the fact that you're no longer mine....
maybe in days, weeks, months or a year
I don't know....
but i know in time, I will
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 6:25 AM UTC
caramel macchiato flavored coffee with mint cigarette flavored kisses with your dreamboat lover is the quintessence of what i call "perfection". if there was a way to describe the way your lips feel against mine, i could only describe it as "cigarettes and coffee". cigarettes and coffee isn't simply consuming caffeine or inhaling tobacco in your lungs, it's sitting on the roof at 1 am looking at the stars with a blanket around the both of you. it's laying in the grass with a slight breeze blowing making smoke rings between the arduous kisses. it's simply sipping a vanilla latte on the corner of a new york city street with a cigarette in your hand, making swirls of smoke as more ash forms above the filter, looking like some sort of bohemian gods. it's walking along a deserted sidewalk in your black jeans and doc martens with a big t-shirt and coke bottle sunglasses on with your lover on your hip and your menthol in one hand and philter in another. "cigarettes and coffee" is whatever you can interpret as pure bliss; it's simply whatever makes you happy and whatever makes you want to sit in the grass all night and talk about anything and everything. there's a lot of people that would argue there's no beauty to the feel of tobacco in your lungs and arabica in your mouth, but evidently, they've never tried cigarettes and coffee.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 8:18 AM UTC
Half calf with a twist
As the line stands
Thinking she is a superimposed *****
Foregoing on
Barista
Waist like an elastic band
Hair waving hello in it’s pinkness
Homeless man coming in
Screaming
Obscenities
Something about Romans and Euripides
As if in a round about
Circle the store like a hovered cloud
Then out again
The rocker dude sipping his tea
The older man in the corner
Who constantly leaves
Wandering where one can’t see
Trailing behind his laptop and keys
Somewhere in this madness loop
Latte’s and Macchiato's brew
And I
With a child's flair
Take it all in, while I throw back my hair
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 11:28 PM UTC
I twisted the dollar bill around my finger and then into a bow.
I rolled it up.
I twisted it around my finger once again,
wishing the lady in front of me would order already
instead of asking what EVERY drink was.
I just wanted my latte.
I don't want to have to wait until next Christmas just to order it.
Oh my god, lady! Get out of my way!
Finally, she turned to the man at the other end of the counter, who is waiting for his coffee.
What did you get, Jim?
Caramel Macchiato, Cheryl
She turns back to the cashier, And what's a Caramel Macchiato?
It's an espresso, consisting of milk and two-three shots with caramel syrup, ma'am
Hmm, I guess I'll have that. A small please.
Just as I think she's done, she steps back in front of me.
And a red velvet cookie...you know what, make that two.
The cashier rings her up and I'm slowly nudging her away from the counter.
Hey Abby-ONE CARAMEL LATTE, MEDIUM
I smile, Hello Maddox.
$4.23
I hand him the 5 dollar bill and he stretches behind him and sets my latte in front of me.
Thanks Maddox.
I take my latte and change and walk around to the back, up the back stairs and into the book store.
I sit cross legged in a mustard colored vinyl chair, setting my coffee on the flat arm.
My shoes fall to the floor.
My book falls open to where I marked it last.
I bite the inside of my cheek as I continue to read and taste the cheap caramel in my overpriced latte.
Dec 22, 2013
Dec 22, 2013 at 4:54 PM UTC
Saturday Morning -
It's a little cloudy,
It's a little windy.
Text: We're going to get brunch
So get ready.
Thoughts: I'm hungry! It's getting late
and we have to go to a birthday party.
Baby. hurry!
Menu: I can't have anything heavy,
Me and my girlfriend were out yesterday.
To the lady: Strawberry crepes for me, please,
I'll also have a caramel macchiato, and...
Can you add a Perrier? Thanks.
Across the table: What is this moment?
It's not butterflies, there's no knots in my stomach.
I think it's love...it's definitely happiness...
This is straight out of a movie...
No, nothing speacial happened.
It was just a cloudy Saturday morning
But there was enough Sun to hit our window,
And I just couldn't believe
I was living that moment.
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 11:18 PM UTC
The Vanilla Bean Frappuccino,
who brings chills down my spine every time.
Sweet on the inside, cold-hearted on the outside,
Especially when he leaves me high and dry
in the morning unexpectedly.
He’ll remind me that I’m alive,
And make me feel Zen for a split second,
Then he splits in a second.
Or
The Caramel Macchiato,
Tall with a sophisticated smile
And unrealistically hazel eyes
That read “bello” around his irises.
With a shot of expression—
He’s never afraid to speak how he feels.
But that’s just the Italian in him.
Or
The Pumpkin Spice Latte,
The most popular guy.
He’ll warm me up when I’m cold;
And make me feel like I’m his only one,
He’ll tell me everything I want to hear,
Then he’ll disappear without a sign—
At least until the next year,
Only to continue the same cycle over again.
Or
The Cappuccino,
He’s got a strong mind
like those French roast blends
With a secret soft side.
He speaks with fluidity and is
As charismatic as the rest.
He’s a morning person nonetheless,
And won’t leave me loveless
In the sheets like Mr. Vanilla Bean sometimes does.
Or
The Teavana Chai Tea Latte
He sounds fancy, does he not?
He’s different to say the least,
Layered with many spices,
And from cinnamon trees,
He’s warm-hearted, yet feisty.
Gentle, yet fatuously energetic.
Soft spoken, yet bold,
He doesn’t have to do much
To have me sold to his trance.
Now for me to decide what I want
As more people file in, deliberating the same
Line up as I, but they have more to
Choose from.
Perhaps I should loosen up some, and go
With last one.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 7:37 PM UTC
I've always been cold until I visited the Far East and you pranced into my life like a wild gazelle in the grasslands. I've always been cold until you laid your head on my chest while you fell asleep and the aroma of your cocoa brown hair intoxicated me to the point of snores and the most pleasant dreams I've ever had. I've always been cold until you wrapped your arm around my stomach and I could feel your veins circulating on the contours of my abdomen. I've always been cold until you looked at me with your macchiato eyes and my state of matter went from solid to liquid as I tried to construct myself back together like an artist sculpting an ice statue outside in the middle of May in Mexico. I've always been cold until your kiss electrified my lips like an underwater eel and I felt 12,000 watts circulate my body bringing to attention every cell that flows within my valves. I've always been cold like an iceberg near the Antarctic and nothing's ever changed that. Nothing except for you. Thank you for being my fireplace in the middle of an ice cold winter. Thank you for being my heat.
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 2:26 AM UTC
The breaking warmth over the morning glow.
The caramel macchiato which remind me of her love.
Her stress filled tears, do so bring me fury.
Her radiate smile, endless dreams.
Her heart, wishful happiness.
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 3:51 AM UTC
The first sip they say
Takes your breath away
And so it did
As I lifted the lid
Again to my smiling lips
The liquid falls and drips
But my mind is elsewhere
Thinking of a moment I share
With only you
Just us two
May 9, 2021
May 9, 2021 at 4:53 PM UTC
Black coffee in a white cup
Half awaken for a new day.
Coffee without sugar to sweeten
Day spring arise sad in one January day.
Coffee with friends at noon
To embroilment stubborn world.
Dusk coffee associated with tobacco
To **** troubles and have fun
Up to lunacy.
One coffee, two coffee, three coffee
To **** grieving
When you are desperate
Dark coffee, macchiato, espresso
To celebrate defeated King’s victory.
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 3:45 PM UTC
where you are a soft hum
in my chest he was a riptide,
a cheese grater swallowed
whole, the fifth sunburn
of the summer. you are
the breeze on a rainy
morning but i can't
love your hands the way
i did his why can't i love
your hands the way i did his
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 4:30 AM UTC
Here's to hoping i'm beautiful
because I can't see what others do
words are a faulty part, a non-adhesive
trying to glue with water, *today is the
day. today is the day* but I'm just
screaming at God, well if today is
the day, then why I am at work?
why is there no time to think?
why are these people in this
bitter little town allowed to
exist?
Here's to hoping I'm beautiful
because I can't see what others do.
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
I burnt my tongue a week ago--
Too much of scalding coffee and lies [on your part],
But I swallowed it with a couple of anti-depressants
I have forgotten how creamy, toffee powdered mocha tastes like and your lips,
They used to taste like macchiato, as time passed by,
Maple leaves drizzled autumn, burst into slashing icy winter,
Your lips started tasting like black coffee, like tar, most of the days it’s only a figure of speech,
Warning sign blinking all day long in my head, when I can’t hold it in my fingers,
When it’s escaping out of my grasp, ready to run, making space for the sugary vanilla layer
But then there are days, when you find your way back underneath my sheets,
My duvet, the only witness, sadly silent all too similar to my will power screaming inside my head,
And here are you fictious sentences, framed with such precise,
Knocking down all the walls I tried to built, leading to defeat,
Holding me chained like a slave.
All my fury fueled sentences burn like fire, vengeful riff of an electric guitar within my mind,
When your fingers encircle me, rough nibs of your lips on the nape of neck, palm tracing lies on my tailbone
All the fire drowns in crafted lies, ashes of my dignity scattered, a bleak watered down-
Note of a single string as the soundtrack of my misery.
I burnt my tongue last night--
Too much of your blazing skin and lies but I spitted it all out,
This brittle heart not so brittle anymore heated at 1,300*c, on the kiln again and again-
To form an everlasting nature.
Arteries have clotted, hatred burning bright within, lungs suffocating starving for oxygen and blood,
Like the dragon breathes fire, I’ll breathe out the scathing curses; and leave with my dignity intact
Barely responding to all your shameless deeds.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 11:40 AM UTC
I knew who you were the right one when you stepped into my life
you had your thick rimmed, non prescription glasses
that were way too big for your face and you secretly knew it
your apparel consisted of Urban outfitters,
your grandmother’s closet or
“cute things you found on amazon”
and the scarf in the middle of august means one thing,
you're a hipster!
You stand out like fireworks on the 3rd of July
No not because you are one of a kind,
It's just that you were 15 minutes late to my History class,
you don't follow time because you go to places when the “vibe is right”
you pulled out your Mac Book Air out of your satchel and you waved at me.
Okay now you are one of a kind
After class We started talking about the music we listen to.
and we listen to the same music
Which is the equivalent of finding the holy grail in your studio apartment in downtown Portland
where the air taste like that Caramel Macchiato that you had this morning.
We talked more out of class
We talked about Michael Cera movies,
and how anything with a filter looks better on instagram
and how she writes poetry with her vintage typewriter,
and the undeniable fact that you will never be proud of what you are.
H
I
P
S
T
E
R
One day after class, I was walking you to you bicycle
(you don't use a car because you like going on your own path)
and I found the courage to ask you out on a date,
you sat there puzzled for a while and you said yes.
Later that night, I rode in my bicycle to your apartment as you hopped on your bike and we rode to a drive in theater, drank PBR, and loved every second of that moment.
When we stopped at your house
I held your hips and said, “lets fall in hipster love like Matt and Kim, I wanna see your Bright Eyes peer into the Pixels of our lives . I want you to see that
maybe a little Fleet Foxes and Bon Iver will make our lives a little Clearer
You bring the Modest Mouse out of me as it crawls through my wall of lies
You make me wanna jump in a Passion Pit with The Nationals,”
and then I hugged you like a Grizzly Bear
You kissed me as it gave me wings to fly off to the back of my mind
and that honey is what makes you one of a kind.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
Don’t date people who drink coffee.
But especially don’t date people who claim they love coffee
then drown it in sugar and cream.
Those are the ******* that will break your heart.
They claim they love coffee and then they manipulate it
until it’s something they can tolerate.
They don’t love coffee at all. They like sickening sweet sugar water.
They like pretending to love coffee.
The sort of person who goes to Starbucks every morning and demands a
Venti,
Non-Fat,
No Foam,
Sugar Free with extra ice and three pumps of hazelnut
is the sort of person who will slowly find every quirk that makes you who you are
and destroy it to fit their lifestyle.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
the sky over london
fingertips in a dark theatre
vintage clothing
november 19 - 22
a starbucks double-shot macchiato
the taste of toothpaste
canada
the sadness of missing the 7.30am snow
an empty hotel corridor
secret ***
a reflection (in a camera lens, the windows of the metro, the mirror opposite your bed)
old style rap
a hand to hold in an ice-skating rink
a sad boy
the only ******* thing i can think of
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
Sat in Coffee shop, latte in my hand
Watching people queuing, time turning to sand.
The server takes your order, writes your name upon the cup.
The Barista makes your order, then serves it up.
The server calls your name over a microphone.
Chocolate sprinkles, marshmallows, flake bars and pretty stuff, adorning the top.
Workmen in their high viz, ordering macchiato to go.
Watching the clock tick tock, tick tock, 15mins is all they've got.
Business women in sharp suits and heels, ordering double espresso.
Watching the clock tick tock, tick tock, 10mins is their lot.
Mothers and their children enjoying babycino.
Watching the clock tick tock, tick tock, waiting for the hour hand to reach the top.
I sit taking it easy, watching the world rush by hoping that something miraculous will catch my curious eye.
Something hot & steamy.
Something with a froth on top.
You never know what you may find in your local coffee shop.
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 12:46 PM UTC
Writing gets way more personal
Imagination moves at full speed
No anxiety
Every part of my body feels like it is in a jacuzzi
Caramel Macchiato flavor
Overwhelming feelings are at a standstill
Family is more tolerable
Friends are more entertaining
Early mornings are the best time to be outside
Enjoying the sunrise
Problems find solutions
Off days turn out to be the biggest blessings
Eerie thoughts are heard
Time does not exist
Raw and unfiltered
You learn a little more about yourself with each poem that you write
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 6:13 AM UTC
I'm the faded old photograph tucked away between pages of the romantic novel you read in high school.
I'm the smell of the coffee beans that greets you while you sip a latte macchiato on a rainy evening with your newfound love.
I'm the lyrics of a song you sing no more,
I'm the high you get from the pills you take
to drive the loneliness away.
I was there, I am here
and I will be
a part of everything that you've ever touched to your lips
or laid your eyes upon.
Every city that you breathe in,
the winds will bring my name to me.
And if not my name,
at least give to me the sigh that escapes your lips
when you feel alone in a room full of people
When you'd hold the glass of 1973 Chavignol between your fingers
like you once held my hand
I hope the color of your wine
reminds you of the color of my amber eyes
but ah! where would you find the depth.
I'd live in every second your watch ticks by,
every mile you drive out of the town where we lay beneath the ink sky and those million stars
and made memories through the night.
Sometimes, you grow. Get over people.
But you'd never get over how they made you feel.
That's how they stay,
Like the after taste of something you ate.
And no amount of alcohol could make you forget it.
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 5:12 AM UTC
I am like a cup of coffee
The black coffee is my soul
the cup is my body
the hot temperature is my love
the steam rising are my dreams
The sugar is my friends
the cream is my family
Leave me out too long
I start to get cold
re-heating me is like giving me a hug
reminding me that I am not alone
The spoon is my soulmate
I need him to mix the flavors
Whip cream is the blessings
I receive on a daily basis
The sprinkles on top are milestones I have reached
the scent is my voice for when I sing and when I speak
Vanilla is my favorite holidays
Chocolate is my birthday
Raspberry is my laughter
Macchiato is my sad days
Pumpkin Spice is my comfort
Peppermint is my kisses
Lattes are my poetry
Cappuccinos are my tears
Every flavor is another part of me you have to get to know first in order to like
Irish Creme is my hello
Hot chocolate is my goodbye
I am brewed every minute of everyday
I am well loved by everybody
I can warm you up and make you feel alive
just like a cup of coffee
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 9:02 PM UTC
mornings become afternoons
become nights
two jobs I juggle
just so I can say
fresh money in my purse
for things I do/don't need
a mahogany umbrella stand
gorging bottles of beer
chest of drawers
from that vintage store
guy at the window
fancies a macchiato
any second now
whatshisname from the bank
loose tie yet again
will come in
expect an espresso
not in the mood
only thinking
about rent this month
some dude last night
clattered into me
a drunken haze of words
sticky kiss on my fringe
slapped him so he grabbed me
rectangular ****
migraine like Vesuvius
clean a table
know he's looking at me
turn around
hides behind the Times
latte latte latte
chuck it over some Asian’s lap
sorry about that
I'll get you another one
so not with it
all I can see
spread out as items
at a flea market
snow umbrella
rent ***
book kiss
milk orange
blood money
alone
coffee
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
Rainy days and Mondays
Piloting my car like a
river boat captain
on a shiny Mississippi
It is morning but still dark
an eye dropper of blue has
been added to the sky
and what was once black
has now slowly spread to purple
A purple macchiato in the atmosphere
I pass by a convenient store
It looks like an oasis in the dark rain
Soft blue lights reflecting on wet asphalt, illuminated marquee
an old cinematographer trick
This is my time
This is where I live
This is me.
My true self
before,
I am stained by work
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 7:16 AM UTC