P.S. "Coffee" is kind of long.
Ice
white. All is white.
There is no sound
There is no sound
hushed silence surrounds
my covered ears
there’s no one around me
only crystalline trees
give me any sort of fraternity
The snow falls
drifting, like a man stranded at sea
letting the wind take him e’re it goes
but sooner or later, falling, falling, falling
into nothingness once more
each flake different
yet in the end no difference could be made
A path lies before me
trees overhanging
my coat is wrapping me in warmth
my boots are dragging through the unmarked snow
the flakes cling to me, like frozen memories
The trees themselves are reminiscent of the mind
forever encased in ice
never to look different
the sap within, solidified, unchanging
so too are memories
forever enveloped by ice
to preserve them
to keep them always visible
to keep them forever solidified, unchanged
Freezing the mind, solid
while all around, there is naught but white
a hushed silence surrounds
There are none around me
I stand, frozen, with statues of ice as fraternity
Coffee
Let me paint you a picture
you’re in a small coffee shop
the sounds of the hiss and pop
of the air pot topping off
with fresh, smooth, coffee
the murmur of different conversations surrounds you
you hear about a new born baby
of a woman who’s thinking maybe,
she has made a mistake with the man she chose after all
you hear plans of hitting up the mall,
you see people taking instagram pictures of pumpkin lattes and the beautiful fall weather
The barisita behind the counter has a man bun
messily tied up behind his head to keep it out of his face
his hipster beard is reminiscent of the lumbersexual memes you see on Facebook
but his coffee is second to none
Starbucks has nothing on this small town coffee shop
that the barista started with his own time, energy,and resources
He brings me a steaming hot cup
the brown liquid inside still has a few air bubbles
from the strong flow of the air pot
which was freshly filled but minutes ago
little do I know,
that I am that cup
when he was creating His brew,
He was actually creating me anew
My soul has a hard case
it is burnt, it is charred
it is beyond recognition from what it once was
A mockery of what I used to be
My experiences have hardened me
They were the ones that burned me
My mistakes, my mis-ques, my failings.
It all adds up to a dark brown shell,
with seemingly nothing left to give
The Barista grinds me up, breaking apart my shell, taking away my very essence
I know it. My time has come
This is the end
Everything I've done, everything I've said
has led me to where I am today
useless and broken
no words left to be spoken
never to be woken again
from this breaking point in which I sit.
I am nothing but a fine powder now.
He puts me in whitewashed walls,
clearly to be discarded and forgotten, once and for all
I can not reform this soul of mine
it is beyond repair, what could I do?
mend every singular grain with glue?
try to knit back every sinew?
I would if only I knew
how.
But alas I do not
so this existence in my white tomb shall be all that I am
broken, unrecognizable, even from the wretch that I was before.
At least with my hard shell I could bounce off people, hurting them in the wreckage that is my life
but now?
Now I am a soft, fine powder. broken. useless. unmade.
Now scalding water burns me
pours over me
drowns me
I cannot breath
The heat is too much
I have no crutch to stand on
not even my broken soul will remain
it will disappear
washed away by the flood of this scalding water,
ripping all that I am away from me
Pulling my spirit with it, leaving behind the broken shell of my soul
But wait, what is this?
Is this purifying me?
Pulling away all the hate and scorn that I held
when the scorching water came, my spirit swelled
and was pulled forth from my broken shell
which wasn't my essence, but rather my walls
that I put between who I was and who I really am
and my spirit swam in the dark, rich water that dripped down
into a cup, one that overflows, it seems
constantly with the combination of water and spirit
and I am finally made useful once more
I thought I was broken, but I have been made whole
melded with the water that was heated with the coals
of loving mercy
This drink, yes, is bitter, but then again, thus is life
it is filled with struggle and strife, that strangles and stymies
but it is also filled with soothing water
it refreshes, it is joyous
it bubbles and pops with love and kindness and hope
Thus is my cup
Bitter yet refreshing
A beautiful combination
an invigorating brew
Made by a barista
in a small coffee shop
the hissing and the mouse-like murmur of people in the background
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