Black Coffee


One cup of black coffee
Stares up at them both
From the middle of the table
The only thing between them
In this silent room
During this deafeningly quiet hour
In a spot that was once reserved
For intertwined hands
Illustrious bouquets of flowers
Black coffee
No cream
No need
No sense in lightening
The darkness of deceit
In the silence
And in the darkness
It begins to mirror papers of divorce
Right now
Black coffee
Seems to hold the same force

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