Bitter

I'm drinking room temperature coffee 

after marking it's third day left in the pot 

sitting there and cooling, 

I can hardly care whether it has molded or not. 

It's bitter and it hurts 

because it reminds me of you a lot. 

It reminds me of the winters we'd skip school and run from the bus,

stay home and cuddle up 

watching a movie in the warm basement until we fell asleep, 

falling asleep in winter's short-lived and glorified dream. 

It reminds me of the days we'd hide in the cemetery and smoke weed 

With delirious heads full of smoke and dreams 

We'd steal liquor from your dad and tell all of our friends we were living the life being dumb and in-love teens. 

Winter's dream would melt with the early arrival of spring in late February. 

You moved and we talked less and less, 

the seasons changed and so did your lips. 

So did your eyes and the way you looked at me,

I could hardly see a friendly face twisted inside of the deranged protege you came to be. 

Winter is early this year, the rain and the snow and the cold weather weep and wreck havoc inside of me. 

The coffee that remained for three days,

the bitter taste reminds me of the sweetness that permeates from your lips, 

no longer lights up your eyes.

It reminds me of the day we said our goodbyes, 

You didn't look back, but you waved, such a bitter goodbye for a sweet summer day. 

I believe I now know why I've come to hate those hot sunny days;

they're not bitter like they should be, 

because they've moved on and I've yet to remember the way 

back to you.