Coffee (a poem)

Since you've left, coffee tastes just like coffee; however I mask its taste with sugar and creamer.

Starbucks tastes no different, only a million times sadder.

I tried drinking coffee with pan de sal, but it only tasted a lot worse than it is. It was like drinking coffee that tastes like tears.

I once had coffee with a stranger I met from god knows where and the coffee was as bland as the conversation. It got cold so fast. I didn't even finish the cup.

Coffee may have lost its essence to me now.

I have been drinking coffee with you in the worst of times but it never tasted bad.

When you left, coffee has turned into cum—it just has to be ejected. That if from another, it’s something you want to taste but never want to swallow.

But

I still haven't given up on finding the right coffee. Tea is just too boring and beer is just too, well, I like beer, but you don’t.

So, please.

Just please...

Make my coffee taste good again.

-----------------------------

This was written summer of last year. I was writing this in positive hopefulness, but the thing I feared most still happened. It could not be undone.

But I post this now because I am finally letting go. I have stopped reaching out. And, well, I have stopped caring.

So, goodbye to you.

I have now contained you in this poem, and I am ready to close this page of you and me.

White Beach, Puerto Galera (isang tula)

Kaninang kinaumagahan

                   Tayo’y naglakad sa dalampasigan.

Mainit ang sikat ng araw,

                            Madulas ang tubig ng dagat.

                                                       Walang kapaguran ang alon

                  Sa paghampas sa batuhan doon…

                                                                  Parang aapaw ang dagat

        At sa init ay parang masusunog ang balat.

Nakakapagod pero masaya at masarap

                                    Lalo na’t sa pagsisid kamay nati’y magkahawak.

                                                                                    At sa ating pag-uwi

                                                                                            Sa bahay mo ngayong gabi,

                                                          Sa loob ng de-aircon mong kwarto

                              Sa harap ng mga santo’t anito

                                                   Muli tayong magpapakalunod sa alat.

Sa init. Sa hampas

        At sa daloy ng

Dagat.

* * * * *

Disclaimer:

I am not really a poet but I sometimes do risk my reputation as a literature instructor by publishing my works on paper or online. I usually write fiction and poetry when I am, err, "stimulated".

And, I do not usually adhere to the standards imposed by critics and writers, so, therefore, I suck. :)