He loved coffee.
He wanted coffee.
She made them some coffee.
He said it’s too much, that coffee.
It scalded him, that coffee.
Doesn’t rejuvenate anymore, that coffee.
What good is non-rejuvenating coffee?
They had different preferences for coffee.
She stared at the cup of coffee.
Slowly turning cold, that coffee.
She tried to warm that coffee.
She wanted to scream, sometimes, at that coffee.
Still she never upsetted the coffee.
So it sits on the table, that coffee.
A single shot of a coffee.

Make it a double next time sweetie –
One more for the heart.


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Filed under coffee, emotions, feelings, love, poetry, writing

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