Yes yes
I love you
More each day
It is a dull dull
Ache that feels
Like my breath
But they tell me
The weak coffee
Is unforgivable.
With it, sometimes 
I wake, I forget its taste
It is the blessing of the 
Morning right before
The mourning brews
You, it is a deserted
Drink I pour each
Day, that leaves me
Dry and you tired
Of me. It is nothing
I want, I know
You won’t drink
But these hands
Are bound by 
Ritual, desperation
In the residual 
Pouring pouring
Down the sink
I am wasted
In love

The post Poem: Weak Coffee appeared first on Wading Wade.