coffee from a certain mug.
a certain brand,
and i make it while night still fills the windows.
the warm familiar way it feels on my lips.
that i have had it before, and before, and before,
as the seasons and the light and the weather change.
today you walked out
and i don’t know if we are all right.
i don’t know if you will come back, or
if i will still be here if you do.
i don’t know when or how things changed,
but my coffee is gone
though i know there is more in the cupboard
and its aroma still lingers in the air.