sweet sweet oranges
on the countertop

and bitter black coffee.

doesn't anyone know
how to make
a decent cup of coffee
anymore?

don't laugh
at me,
ghosts of lovers.

don't laugh
at me,
oranges squeezed into liquor.

(it's really not
a good idea,
but good ideas
aren't my top priority
right now, you see.)

you're all i have now,
pulp and citrus,
coffee liqueur
and a cold black
bitter cup of nothing.

i dip my fingertips in
and they come out
wet.

i bite into
the last fourth
of the orange

and it leaves me
crying very bittersweet
and oceaneyed.

and trust me,
despite the feelings
that you give me

you are
a lot sweeter
than he
ever was.