i try not to think about you

you are what’s left of my morning coffee ­after dinner –
no good for me anymore, but seductive all the same to a caffeine junkie like myself
i know that it’s too late for us
but i can’t help but look at what’s left in my cup and see the same thing that i saw this morning and
i want to reheat it.

because how could something that was once so good, so warm
be transformed by something so innocent as time? and
how could something once so kind bring
so much pain?

sometimes at night, i heat it back up and
though the once earthy scent of my cup has turned bitter i drink it and try to salvage the taste that once was

it is
distant.

but for old times’ sake i swallow all that is left until
the mug is empty and
the time has come for bed but
exposed to the memory of you my head won’t stop running.

the caffeine’s a jolt that i didn’t need and you are what’s on my mind when i can and can’t dream.

you are coffee after dinner