Creatives Scoop

After the Chase

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We sit here,
With heavy tongues
and nothing but the sun
between us
to heat up the icy quiet
and these still Americanos.

The hot from this cup
seeps into my skin,
Through calloused palms
that aren’t overworked,
Just under-moisturized.

As the bitter of the coffee
transacts with my lips
Our eyes fit into each other
over the brim of my cup –
Not yet stained with the stain
which fleetingly stains
the black of my lips.

The sweet of the beans
evades my twirly tongue.
Just like it does
when we talk
at
each other.

The steady of our gaze breaks
and I rip the cup from
these pair of long jarred lips,
Into a saucer whose
corners are not yet nicked
by the rough of the world
the way mine are.

Our minds which once sung together,
Now clamor with ideas,
Drowning the sounds of our voices
in a deafening silence.

I used to be so in love with you.

No.

I used to be so in love with
your flying hair
your three quartered face
your penguin feet
your blazing trail.
My almost.

The almost
that exists no more
because I am
here.

Web by Joshua Kopen

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