I cried when I was grinding
my coffee this morning
and tasted the same bitterness
that could, at least for half of my day, make me stay focused

I spilt my coffee on the floor as soon
as I'd finished brewing it this afternoon
It left stains on the tiles like the bruises on my heart after the day
I'd scarred you with scratches when you'd pushed me away

I poured out all the coffee in the pot this evening
for I could no longer bear my mind peppily running
down memory lane recalling each detail of you every night
wide awake under the warmest blanket, but never feeling right

So tell me why I shall believe people only get tipsy on wine
when I could be drunk off coffee the second you told me to leave everything behind