–
I stood upon mighty boulders by the sea,
Watching as the waves regarded them no less
Than another grain of sand in due time.
Time.
A universal ember, the Sun
Spins like a clock and having spun,
Measures the immeasurable.
And with the shifting of atoms,
Pressed upon by the weight of the universe,
My coffee grows colder.
–
I hate weekdays,
They drag us from our bed,
Where we could snuggle down together,
Keep each other warm instead.
The winter morning chill pervades the room,
Then together, almost as one, and far too soon,
We cast aside the cover,
Glancing shrewdly at each other
Before competing for first shower,
Hot-water, soap, and scour,
While the other makes us coffee,
With toast all buttered down,
Warming frozen fingers,
Wrapped in a dressing gown.
Humming out a cheerful morning song.
Perhaps I don’t hate weekdays all along.
–
The sun comes up, but you’re no longer here,
Just tangled up sheets and a pillow of tears.
Maybe I should thank you
For some madness in my morning,
At least it won’t be boring
This time.
I take comfort in my coffee cup,
Hide from feelings swirling up.
All that caffeinated sadness,
Barely holding back the madness.
If I could drink you down,
Would it make me drown
This time?
–
I wish I was surely
Sugar-high.
Drag me down,
Drag me down.
My face is numb, yet
I cannot cry.
Drag me down.
The ink stains of my eyes
Reflect my coffee coloured skies,
Drags me down.
Drags me down.
Hopelessness that I despise,
Yet every day reprise
Drags me down.
–
I made your morning coffee
Just right.
The way I always do.
The rich aroma fills the kitchen,
And the heat of the mug burns into my palms.
But you don’t smile.
You don’t reach out and take the offered cup.
And I remember, just like paper tearing in two,
That you are gone.
The coffee is for the memory
That I can’t forget..
–
A little sugar please
In the coffee of my days.
They are unsweetened, black,
And full of malaise.
Just a spoonful of honey
To lighten the taste,
Of endless afternoons
Going to waste.
Underneath My Skin 