This post is part of a series called 100 Days of Poetry.
the creamers out
a substitute simply won’t do
gritty white sugar and rice milk
don’t compare to the smooth vanilla smile
you don’t drink my coffee because I don’t keep
half and half in the fridge and
my mornings are long without you.
coffee is the companion I keep. Together we whisper
our lists and scribble, dribble on the paper beside my desk.
But the creamers out and black coffee reminds me
of the tears, and the bitterness of life
it reminds me of a Wake and the perfume of
florals choking my senses
I tried black coffee
but I don’t like it
One thought on “black coffee”
I don’t like it either.