Burnt Coffee
It started with the sound of white noise and the smell
of her anxiety
Her flaxen hair, spun like silver
four blue eyes,
Electrified,
and
Brushstrokes
across his cheek, entire paintings under his eyes;
Her certain sunshine because
now anxiety is only
A word.
there was the
Taste of burnt coffee, the color of her
eyes and she hated it but
Burnt coffee was his favorite.
When the silver stopped spinning
and a part of herself that never
Loved her either
started killing
Herself from the inside
out
He could only watch
because the only person
That could save her
didn’t care enough
He tried so desperately to
touch
Her one last time but her eyes went
black and
He never drank burnt coffee again.
Copyright © Stacy Hsu | Year Posted 2015
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