Coffee with Two Creamers
I let reality bleed out of the world
Watch the colours blur as my eyes lose focus
When I come back to myself, I take the time to study your face.
It was the face I fell in love with, before I got to know what lay beyond.
Those almond-coloured eyes that sparkle
Hair cropped close, the colour of raven's feathers and just as soft.
High, distinguished cheek bones
Dimples only shown when you smile. Adorable.
You have sex appeal.
I used to love you, you know. Before I knew you.
You are possibly the best-looking man I have ever seen up close.
But, you know, you have the personality of an irritated baboon.
There is passion in you.
A lot of excessive anger.
I met you when you were still a virgin.
It's been three years and you've done quite a few.
What's the tally? 12? 15?
I don't realize I've been staring forlornly into space until you tap my shoulder.
I turn, look upon that gorgeous face
That goofy smile that crinkles your eyes.
You are a partier. One who smokes and drinks and gets high almost every night.
You are a small-time drug dealer.
I should hate you.
Really, really hate you.
But I can't.
Not yet.
"What are you staring at?" you ask.
You have a wonderfully deep voice.
I like how if you're close enough, your voice resonates. I can feel your voice on the table, vibrating against my chest.
I used to love you, you know.
Before I knew you.
I want to tell you this, but it doesn't matter.
I look at you for a moment, seeing arms thick with muscles, veins visible under
Your skin, the colour of coffee with two creamers.
"Nothing. I'm not looking at anything," I say, shrug, look away, laugh at a stupid joke someone tells.
You have a nice laugh.
But I don't know how I ever thought I loved you.
Watch the colours blur as my eyes lose focus
When I come back to myself, I take the time to study your face.
It was the face I fell in love with, before I got to know what lay beyond.
Those almond-coloured eyes that sparkle
Hair cropped close, the colour of raven's feathers and just as soft.
High, distinguished cheek bones
Dimples only shown when you smile. Adorable.
You have sex appeal.
I used to love you, you know. Before I knew you.
You are possibly the best-looking man I have ever seen up close.
But, you know, you have the personality of an irritated baboon.
There is passion in you.
A lot of excessive anger.
I met you when you were still a virgin.
It's been three years and you've done quite a few.
What's the tally? 12? 15?
I don't realize I've been staring forlornly into space until you tap my shoulder.
I turn, look upon that gorgeous face
That goofy smile that crinkles your eyes.
You are a partier. One who smokes and drinks and gets high almost every night.
You are a small-time drug dealer.
I should hate you.
Really, really hate you.
But I can't.
Not yet.
"What are you staring at?" you ask.
You have a wonderfully deep voice.
I like how if you're close enough, your voice resonates. I can feel your voice on the table, vibrating against my chest.
I used to love you, you know.
Before I knew you.
I want to tell you this, but it doesn't matter.
I look at you for a moment, seeing arms thick with muscles, veins visible under
Your skin, the colour of coffee with two creamers.
"Nothing. I'm not looking at anything," I say, shrug, look away, laugh at a stupid joke someone tells.
You have a nice laugh.
But I don't know how I ever thought I loved you.