Put your cigarette in my mouth.
Do you feel its bitter tongue lock you in fumes?
I know this feeling.
Its guilt. As grey as bad meat.
And it makes its stains on your eyes.
Patches of it bruising your cheeks,
What are you hiding in your sleeves?
Halloween, love of my life, and black coffee.
I can’t drink it.
I can’t back out from the pain scoring my vessels,
It burns and I melt with it,
I am flushed into a puddle of nothing.
He blew me away.
And I knew that I couldn’t fathom the separation,
It took all my heart to heave itself onto the coastline
And wrap itself around the edge of the sea’s frothy lips
To realise that it was more than just a simple kiss,
It was falling in love in a car in a field in a new world
And his shirt stained in new colours beyond what I’d imagined,
I’m burning on the sofa from the distance I hadn’t anticipated,
Drinking black coffee I can’t swallow.
It hurts my chest,
And my bones dry from the frost on somebody else’s t-shirt.
I could hardly tell you their name.
I’m submerged in black coffee,
And I like the quiet darkness of it,
I fall asleep.
I don’t pretend to be dead. I am dead.
It was Italian tapas, many lunch times ago,
That brought us together,
Over conversation and questions
And “how’d you dos”
But I can’t remember the details of it all.
I’ll not forget you my angel.
The cigarette’s almost burned down to the bottom,
The crux of this poem is simple,
I shouldn’t have drank black coffee when I knew I didn’t like it in the first place.