Prompt 13: coffee talk memories

coffee talk memories

 

moonbeams in the cold, black coffee

quakes in the chipped cup just out of reach of my fingertips

on that damn shelf you built for me:

glass shards in concrete,

wrapped in honey-stained fir…

re-purposed dock planks

where we first fucked, embraced by fog;

my heart breaking so loudly as to deafen me

in the hush of your back turning,

to leave me naked,

saying:

“See ya later.¬† I’m headin’ to the Canteen

to wash you out of my mouth.”

 

(c) r. l. elke

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