Burnt coffee.

Bitter and black.

Bites the tongue.

B L O W

a gentle breeze

to ease the pain.

Like your small smile

in those July rains,

dreaming of white aisles

and telling me it’s ok.

Our innocence remains

where we used to laugh and play.

Then

come

the

doves,

a blessed union from celestials above.

A couple in love

that could of been us.

They make their way toward my cup

and I see it’s you

But there’s nothing to discuss

and not much to say.

So instead I smile a small smile

with eyes I’d gladly give away

and offer a wave

to you and your new fiancé.

I’m glad you’re ok.