Brew Me

Bitter, black and hot,
Served to me that way,
Serves me right for being not,
Then I headed towards a wooden bay...

and I changed it, almost
like when those,
little pebbles become sand,
like when she gives out her hand...

All but that was in a dream,
Because it had to be,
Taken softly,slowly as rises its steam,
Into the chilly air, without me.

I have known,
...why, I have to take in small sips, all
--on guard,
lips are easily burned,
And to heal is quite hard.

Parched lips, where it used to be supple,
Because I cannot be virtuous
....much
The beans had endured them a couple
--of heat for the aroma to come,
As such,

is its fate.

Thus, as the steam envelopes my eyes,
Jolting, and loses the lethargy,
Creamy, bitter-sweet and warm in my hands,
You're all mine, my freshly...
...brewed coffee.