The Coffee Stain
The coffee stain imprinted on the page
of notebook paper I'm writing on right now
reminds me of your eyes—
dark, brown spirals cycling around
the pale blue lines that separate
my thoughts; the spacious white
that causes me to recall the downy
purity of the god[ess] I'd
forgotten somewhere. Though
it's just a fragment of a circle,
the roundness dissipating as it lifts,
the image remains, and the imperfections
that sink down beside the words I jot into the
sheets go far deeper than
these scribbles, discoloring the emptiness
further than I know how to admit. And I—
remembering your shape, the way you see, looking
through it— am happy, am awake—
by a jolt of reminiscent caffeine and an embrace that
kindles all tomorrow's pages— and I
am content to ponder of what is
or was or what could've been, letting it all soak as
I start to question what will be.
Que sera, sera.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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