Coffee

We sit under the same sky, looking at the same star, sharing a cup of coffee from your mouth to mine.

“Too sweet” you say softly, mentioning about the coffee. I touch your lips and taste it, shake my head, looking so confused.

“But it’s bitter, dear…”

Then I’m babbling around, telling you I should have bought a cup of hot chocolate instead of this, or at least add some sugar cubes, milk, cream, whatever.

“I don’t wanna talk about coffee anymore”.

I nod.

Keeping my thoughts inside, trying to disregard my words,

Things I really want to share with you, day after day.

So I pull your sweater, you take my hand and put it inside your pocket.

I’m wishing secretly you’ll hold my hand as long as it’s still inside your sweater’s pocket, but you’re too busy with your own cell phone.

The world you never let me in, or even touch the key.

I want you to look me in the eye, tell me we’re still having ‘that’ connection, or simply whisper.

“I understand about your obsession to around the world, be a certified diver, and take picture with 1000 wonders you’re trying to collect, and I’ll take you as you are by the way”.

Someday, can we both at least agree that there’s nothing wrong with our coffee?

Someday, is there nothing wrong with the weather, or your sweater, or your cell phone?

Someday, could the kisses turn out greater, neither without sugar nor the creamer?