A poem by Sydney Reffeitt, junior English Education Major
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Bitter,
like the coffee
on the table,
losing its
warmth
after it ended.
The taste
of the coffee
circulates
in my heart,
pumping
to the rest
of the body
you stopped caring about.
The mug’s
presence
slowly fades,
a detail
lost
to the struggle.
The sugar
sunk,
never dissolving,
memories lingering
And the
sweet cream
masks
the bitter taste,
an empty smile
that ignores
the conflict at hand.
I noticed
a chip
in the handle;
maybe
it was always there
or maybe
it chipped
a few months ago.
And when
I made a fist,
the lines
on my hands
looked like
the crazing
crawling all over
the mug of coffee.
My fist remained
in the same form
as I drove it
through the mug
and its bitter contents.
Coffee spread
across the table,
letting the
stack of papers
have a taste.
It dribbled
into a puddle
on the
cold tile,
leaving
my fist,
my favorite mug,
and my heart
entirely
shattered.
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