I Wanted Coffee…

A passionate history of empty promises,

In the chamber of moments never written,

I was waiting for you…

Your presence

poured out like perfume –

No wonder I adored you so much.

Just wanting you to look at me once more…

Just look at me like love.

And like a break from war,

I accept you with open arms wide open,

Just glad that you’re breathing again,

And glad that you’re whole.

 

 

Now I am everything depicting broken because it is my heart that you stole.

Now here you are…

And I am unable to feel my own hollow; due to the illusion that you make me whole.

Waking up next to you, with the smell of coffee brewing parallel to morning dust.

Coffee synonymous to lust

At this moment, I am unable to differentiate between love and lust.

I’ve avoided so many potential heartbreaks

Yet I still want to face your heads on.

Upon preparation for this moment

I specifically said I wanted coffee.

And not coffee in the morning.

But Coffee as a gesture.

A simple gesture to show that you care.

 

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Vulnerability

I’ve grown found of affection, Something which has always been foreign to me.
There’s something that feelings so homely about a pillow with a beating heart….

Blanket that resignates with body heat…

And calm breaths that scream “HOME”
This moment is so precious to me.

Conscious of the energy we feeding the moment 

Too tired to sleep

Nurturing warmth between the sheets.
I love being held,

And I’m no longer ashamed to confess that,

I no longer associate my emotional fulfilment with weakness.
Creating memories that refuse to be forgotten beyond the pain caused
I am needy because I’m human and I deserve to be held.

I’ve overcome my vulnerability…

I wanted coffee…

A passionate history of empty promises.

In the chamber of moments never written.
I was waiting for you.
Your presence is perfume poured out-

No wonder I adored you so much.
I just wanted you to look at me like love.
And like a break from war, 

I accept you with open arms 

Just glad that you’re breathing again 

And glad that you’re whole.
Now I am everything depicting broken, because it is my heart that you stole.
Now here you are…
I am unable to feel my own hollow

Due to the illusion that that you make me whole.
Waking up next to you, with the smell of coffee brewing parallel to morning dust.
At this time, I am unable to differentiate between love and lust.
I’ve avoided so many potential heartbreaks

Yet I still want to face you heads on.

Upon preparation for this moment 

I specifically said I want coffee.

And not coffee in the morning.

But Coffee as a gesture, 

To show that you care…
Two full moons later,

I can’t help but feel like the fool….
All you had to do was show up.

I wasn’t looking for a grand gesture

Nothing bold

You just had to be there 
I just wanted coffee 
But truly, I wanted understanding 

How could someone bear so much 

With the intention of being wanted 

Turn around and not be wanted once I’ve dropped all my gaurds

Throwback 

   
I came across this piece just now and I was completely unaware that I wrote it, until I was half way through. 

In those seconds, it dawned on me how unbelievablely easy it was for me to write about topics I had absolutely no idea of.

Now, that I’m learning to be aware of my emotions, writing has become such a foreign talent of mine.

Long story short, I can finally relate to what what I used to write about and now that I’m experiencing it, I find it difficult to write.

Sober

Soon as the liquor dissolves on my tongue,
I am unable to control myself.
I only want you.
Like you are the only thing buried at the bottom of a bottle.

I’m too far from sober to want you in any other way.
In the sea of alcohol,
It is only you that I remember clearly.

I can’t rinse the bitter taste of you on my tongue.
Your taste lingers long after I’ve stopped being consumed by you.
And I’m dying to feel the tenderness of being sober, again.

I wake, in a bed, that is remote to mine.
Laying beside you,
Fully aware that you’re not mine.
How is that you don’t stop me,
When you are the one with the sober mind.

In the temporary heat of passion, 
You make bad decisions look good.
And in the aim of forgetting your name,
I only manage to forget my own.

Waiting until the night falls,
To crack a bottle of wine,
Is an easily attainable goal,
When I fool myself into believing that, 
Tonight, I won’t think about you.
Instead,
I will take all day to recover from the hell I put my body through the previous night.

And one day,
I’ll mean absolutely nothing to you,
And you will make me feel it in the midst of my unsoberness.
I will pour all the remaining pieces of my heart in a text, and you won’t even reply.