when i think of coffee

When I think of coffee
I think of you

Of the warmth that swells from inside
when I take you

When I drink in the sweetness
that wraps itself round my senses
with each tight embrace

Of the softness of your hands, your cheeks
like the cream that traces your lips

And the sprinkling of smile in your eyes
flashing above the mist around your cup

Of the flavor, the aroma
the rich heartwarming sincerity
that draws and holds me eager and awake
to discover what promise the night holds

I think of beautiful things shared
under warm orange lights
and in private;

Of the cold sweat that forms and trickles down
the glasses of water standing silent on the table
amidst crumpled napkins and half-eaten cake

Of long, meaningful dialogues
of sips of bitterness sweetened by reassuring words
and comforting hugs that swallow me in one gulp


Or when the evening breeze beckons
us out to our wide open spaces
we cast our eyes up
into the night sky and let dreams take flight

While our lips lock
and keep us bound to earth
to each other

And as the night grows old
the coffee grows cold
it’s your warmth that I begin to yearn for

Is it the coffee that sweetens your lips?
or is it your taste that lingers
in this shared cup?

When I think of coffee
i think of you

of how something so seemingly bitter
brings forth in me
the sweetest of smiles

-o.O-

16th of December 2008

like newborn fire

Like newborn fire
that flares and rages
from which you step back
your moth eyes drawn,
My words burned bright
and etched themselves
unto the walls of your heart.


The strange knots in my chest unfurled,
bursting into ribbons of color
wrapping me round and round,
In your arms,
my words found new release
in pondering your mystery
and in promises that set your fires alight.


But the words you say grew stale,
died out;
and led to naught but traps
lined with shards of promises
that failed to fill the dent in your chest
where your heart used to be


My words would only light up your eyes
like comets do the sky -
Few, fleeting, and futile


‘tis not so because I no longer thread ribbons,
In my chest, no less brighter do the colors burn,
No less drawn am I to your mystery
nor mesmerized by your silence,
though I have learned to fear and respect it
like scorching fire, still
is my heart a moth-spark in your blaze


I know now the secret to your fire,
your passion, your longing.
I cannot fuel you like as I did before, no,
Not with loud flashes of flame
And bright fleeting sparks,
Or the raw fires that ravaged once pristine forests
and scarred our plains.


But with the steady glow of a candle
flickering, but ever true,
dancing in your waltzing gusts of wind;
With the determined resolve of coal and ember,
that burns long and warm - and slow,
Fire that gives itself


Wholly,
until nothing remains but ash and wasted wax,
So I burn for you now.


But summon me again, at your mere touch,
i will rise to consume you with words like before,
like newborn fire.


For Cheska
14th of February 2009