crush

she woke up, reaching out for him

feeling the vibrations of his breath.

she yawned, paused–

rolled out of bed

slowly, methodically

as to not disturb him.

reaching for her red shawl,

a gift from henry,

she flashed back nearly a decade

ago– the brief affair.

as she threw it across her shoulders

she was swept away to that

evening, nine years ago, standing

on the dock, wet cheeks

and pitted stomach

watching the boat drift

further and further

until it was but a speck–

a distant memory of one

great love.

measuring one rounded

scoop, she poured the

coffee in. water up to the line.

a simple recipe, if you

could even call it one.

unlike the complex

formula that was 

her life.

she added another heap

of grounds with her

hand, letting them sift

through her

sinewy fingers.

eventually everything slips through, 

she thought.

like me lately.

 flat lining mostly–

with an occasional heartbeat 

just to appease those 

counting on me...or myself 

what is the difference?

at one time there wasn't one

I blended all your hopes 

and expectations with my

forming understanding of the world

her recipe was written.

one part the things you would have

done differently, 

two parts the things you never did,

a dash of fear–

a cup of beaming pride, 

a drop of tears. 

make that two drops, 

the tears 

are really tasty, 

they're in season 

right now

now hit the buttons.

grate

puree

crush

mix

liquefy

serve a taste to 

all you encounter

some will find 

they could drink 

it every day, it is their favorite

Where Has This Been My Entire Life?

for some its saccharine, 

they'd rather not

finish the glass

others will never have a drop

No Thank You, I'm Not Hungry