You sip on coffee that your friend made just before you woke up
I stand, staring, across the room, examining the way the cup fits in your hand

The warm liquid in the cup seems tranquil
It is pleased to give moisture to your lips

She, standing, next to me, focused on you, differently than I
We both know you’ll never fully understand the way she, me, or we, think about you

She, I, both, sit rigidly, waiting for you to finish your drink
You, sitting, thinking of what to do

Me, I, thinking, tapping my fingers, rapping on the oak dresser you bought month ago
You, not knowing what I think, but everything that passes through your mind enriches me,

 . . . I can’t get enough of that . . .

Now, you and me, we have something, but no one really knows what to call it
So I stare at you, and speak with your friend, prying for new discoveries

We all go out, then, at night, hours later.
I stare at you across the room sipping y martini, slightly on the rocks,

You engulfed with many to talk
Me, I, man, becoming tipsy, running out of liquids to save my glass from the rocks

Digging deep, trying to find something worth your while to say
You standing, lighting the room, with that “let’s see what happens” look in your eye

A waterfall, the silk, your dress, colliding with the sky, the you, your skin
Bringing light to my eyes

Always, towards the center, shining bright,
Here, lies the smile, the lips, the soul
That has me begging to be the coffee, the liquid, the being, the one
That fills the cup, which warms your hands, and tickles your lips
Giving moisture to your soul