Coffee, staining every sweater
Spilled on every other page
“I’m not awake yet,” she jokes, lightly
“A cup of coffee first”
And so the first cup is poured
She holds it between slender fingers
Her grip strong and steady
Her smile almost there
“I’m still asleep,” she says, sheepishly
“no rest and all that”
But she gulps down the first cup
And reaches for the second.
Steam rises from the paper vessel
The milky liquid scalding down her throat
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes
And the lines in her face
Never even
For the shadows that lurk at the corners
Don’t show themselves
In broad daylight
These demons that she fights
Alone
At night
The nightmares that drag her under
Tormenting until the break of dawn
First crack of light
First cup of coffee
It’s a ritual, you see
For some things hold promise
While others are
The idea that she can survive
That the day will not swallow her
Alive
Is a daring hope
Dancing just out of reach
So today,
And tomorrow
Perhaps the day after…
Coffee.
Coffee
And more…
Coffee
A/N: This one is because I spilled coffee on my sweater. My nice NEW sweater. Ugh. My coffee needed a coffee at this point…