Rollercoaster Rides and Fairground Fantasies- an anthology

Coffee Breath

I can't explain it but black             

coffee reminds me of her

The sweetbitter and bittersweet

Plays a silent film of me and her

A montage of smoky hazes and hazy smoke 

so thick that we can barely see through it

and the sharpness keeps us grounded

And the foam on my coffee looks like her

It looks like her smile, looks like her laugh, 

looks like her smirk and the effortless quirk of 

her eyebrow which I will forever be jealous of.

And the smell of coffee and cake and citrus 

cues the lights and music, the stage setting

and the hand painted background.

My coffee addiction is a tragedy, and so are we.