To her I smell like coffee, warm and bold
in fall when mornings plead for the embrace
of rich aroma, conquering the cold
and lonely air that fills her lonely space.
She holds her cup in both unsteady hands;
she smiles and shrugs, expecting me to pour
my caffeine soul, implicitly demands
her fix of warmth and strength with nothing more.
She cools my heated taste with expert lips,
relaxes with the cup against her breast.
I seep into her slowly as she sips
and quickly where the cup is tightly pressed.
Consumed, I linger on to my surprise,
the catalyst of passion in her eyes.

Originally posted 2/22/2009

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