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coffee, a declaration of love by a. l. k.

the coffee has the color of fresh cut wood,

smelling bitter and sweet all at once,

it’s so precious, so special somehow,

something you don’t want to miss when you had your first sip,

i get that about it being a joy-drug,

how it keeps you awake at night,

makes you think about things you can’t thinks about in daylight,

like your can’t stop staring out of your window,

though it’s pitch-black darkness outside,

the behind the glass and you don’t have no point in staring,

but you do anyway,

thinking about all those things,

while the world and everyone holds their breath,

and you still sit there,

the mug in your hand steaming,

fresh-cut-wood-colored liquid inside it.

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