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Coffee

I should use a sunnier icon for what looks to be a really lovely day (sun! 60s!), but my mind is stuck at dreary from not enough sleep. There's a cup of coffee in front of me and I'm hoping that will help. Which reminded me of a poem from last year, made for a prompt of "coffee and disappointment" in an LJ writing community. I'd never posted it here and it's going to get lost if I don't copy it down.

I've started drinking coffee.
I could say the bitter taste reminds me of you, of us,
But that would be a lie.
I do it because it's there.
Last meeting someone coughed, "Hot water? Tea?"
I smirked, I couldn't help it,
I revelled in my progress relative to hers.
I am beyond tea.
I take my coffee black, "black as sin and twice as sweet"
The saying goes, but I'm weaning myself from sugar too.
I never cared for cream.
Cafe-au-lait's a bastard child hiding its parentage.
I want to see the bottom when I drink.
You were the one who added milk to your tea, and honey,
And never stirred enough.
The syrup would be there when you left,
Still sticky when I touched the bottom of the cup.
My tongue would catch on the roughness of my skin
As I licked it off. The sweetness.

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