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?
Copyright © Madison Power | Year Posted 2025
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