Coffee Stains

i. coffee stains

Coffee stains her finger tips

but she doesn't mind.

She enjoys the warmth

the steaming cup offers her

and the comfort it brings.

Sitting in a corner booth

in the back of the little café

she delicately sips the coffee

careful to savor the rich dark flavor.

And as she sits in the corner booth

slowly drinking up a vat of hot mocha

she people watches and wonders.

Wonders about their lives,

who they are and what they do.

Wonders what type of drink they'll order

-maybe a tasty snack or two.

Wonders if they came to the cafe

with a friend or alone like she did.

And then she wonders if they are lonely too.

Did these people come for coffee

simply because they could?

Or did they come for some deeper reason?

Maybe, like her, they're in need of something more.

Something like company and friendship

or perhaps love.

Love.

A touch of affection,

a pair of outstretched hands,

a caress upon the cheek,

a simple smile no matter how small.

Yes, these are the things she craves

more than coffee a good majority of the time.

But for now she is content

with sitting in the corner booth

in the back of the little café.

Delicately sipping her coffee while

people watching and wondering.

Though at times she wonders

if there is supposed to be more to it.

More to her.

More to her dead end job.

More to her non-existent love life.

But then she takes a moment

to breathe, takes a sip of coffee

and reconsiders things again.

"No, I am alright,"

she thinks to herself

between now large, less

delicate, sips of her mocha.

"Everything will work out

alright in the end."

So, she continues to sit there

for the rest of the day, lost deeply

in her own thoughts and feelings.

Coffee stains her finger tips

but she doesn't mind.

She enjoys the warmth

the steaming cup offers her

and the comfort it brings.