There was a time when the scent of coffee reminded
me of her lips So tender and tasting
like Folgers house blend The best part of
waking up next to her was not the coffee
she brewed upon leaving our bed It was the way
her fingers curled around
the mug as she held it close to her heart
as if to warm it Even in the middle of
the summer And when she kissed me
under the covers I was reminded of her
twisting, pulling, contradictory hatred for
who I was which kept us together even
when the sex was bad and every word
was an argument And when her fingers
slid into mine her rock solid grip made me
shudder and squirm I was reminded of the
way my mother who was warmer than coffee
slipped her arms around my waist and sheltered me from
anger and freedom and sadness The same
sadness that surrounds me now as I
breathe the scent of coffee
No comments:
Post a Comment