Bitter Grounds

Her breath was warm with coffee and sin, Laced dark on my tongue, sharp and thin; A bitter taste clung to the curve of her smile, As dawn broke, trembling, and silent awhile. Her hands, soft thieves, curled 'round my waist, Stealing the quiet I longer to taste; The sheets smelled of dusk, of cinnamon's ghost, Of promises lost, of love turned to toast. I drank her sighs like morning's first brew, Scalding my throat with what I knew— That her heart beat fast for someone unseen, A shadow between us, quiet and lean. Her laughter cracked like porcelain light, Fragile and fierce in the hollow night. I traced her spine with hesitant grace, A map of regrets carved into place. She whispered lies in a voice so sweet That they curled like sugar dissolving in heat; I swallowed each one, choking it down, A queen undone, stripped of her crown. Coffee-stained lips brushed mine again, Tasting of sorrow, of pleasure, of pain. I kissed her deep, kissed her to keep The ache of losing, the weight of sleep. Her collarbone gleamed like brittle glass, A breakable thing too sharp to pass. I pressed my mouth where secrets burned, Forgetting the lessons I never learned. She smiled like dusk—too quick, too brief, A flicker of grace, a sliver of grief. I held her close as the morning broke, Breathing the words I never spoke. Outside, the rain stitched songs of despair, Gray threads that tangled in midnight hair; Her hands in mine felt cold, unsure— A tremble of guilt I could not cure. And so we kissed, the taste of sin Clinging to tongues, dark and thin; Coffee and lies, heat and regret— A bitter blend I'll never forget. For what is love but a fleeting crime, Stolen in sips, and lost to time?