Coffee at my kitchen table, tired, didn’t sleep it seems.
Hands wrapped tightly around the hot mug,
relishing the burn, feeling the pain, feeling something.
She sits across from me, again, this is how we spend the day.
She knows I relish these early moments alone.
Me, drinking coffee, watching the sun come up.
I take a drink and cringe
I’ve forgotten the sugar again.
Forgetting things, empty blocks of time.
Wishing I was back in bed.
Why do I get up before the sun,
awake too many late nights, too many shots,
shooters for a dollar, dancing on the bar..
I always like green tea in bed, reading the paper,
preparing for the day.
Looking for my cigarettes, while I prepare my tea.
Inhale, exhale, smoke filling up my lungs.
Take a pill with my tea, take two they’re small,
gotta stop the pain.
Another day in a dead end job…
Finish my coffee, tastes more like green tea.
What is wrong with me, my mouth tastes
like an ashtray.
Must be this cheap coffee…
Staring at my watch, its dinner time.
It happened again, I’ve been sitting at this
table all day long and haven’t done a thing.
(c) Victoria Ramsey @2014