The sounds of coffee brewing are both soothing and haunting.
Opening the cabinet,
seeing matching mugs side by side,
yet only reaching for one.
The aroma of Columbian coffee and memories linger in the air.
Taking a sip,
feeling “cold” though the brew is scolding hot,
nothing can warm except for the pair of sunset eyes no longer there.
seeing a reflection ripple through the drink,
as tears meet the surface.
Coffee is a moment,
but now it’s just a ghost that wanders.
Where warmth should heal and flavor creates a sempiternal passion,
now leaves hollowness and a bitter taste.
Looking at the coffee cup upon the table,
there is no energy to get through the day.