I need to kind of set the scene for this poem before you read it! It's basically someone who is sitting in the kitchen late at night, drinking coffee to stay awake whilst she tries to make some sense of her past- she's trying to write it down in a poem, but she can't make the words come out right!


Black Coffee

In my kitchen, there I sit,
In an attempt to make things fit,
I try to find some words to write,
I want to heal my soul tonight.

Looking back upon my past,
Filled with love, which did not last,
I wonder if my thoughts were true-
That I'd never be as good as you.

It's true that I have tried to be,
Someone as good as whom I see,
And still, I'll never measure up,
I'll drain another coffee cup.

Was I meant to feel this pain?
To lose so much, yet nothing, gain?
In the end, there'll be some peace,
This constant ache will maybe cease.

I quickly sip another drink,
And slowly, I begin to think,
That in my past, so full of fear,
I was supposed to end up here.

Because I've learned a lot of things,
About the strength will sorrow brings,
And as the mug warms up my hands,
My sense of inner-self expands.

I laugh a little, overcome,
No longer feeling weak and numb,
I glance at all the words I've got,
Beside the empty coffee pot.