Spontaneous Works of an Endless Dreamer (Poetry)

Riddle Me This . . .

Do you like coffee, 

She once asked me,

I shook my head with glee,

No coffee,

Don't you see?

No coffee for me. 

Puh-lease.

Now they all liked me, 

But I just told them, 

Nope, 

I don't like coffee,

Sorry.

But then comes, a cup.

So sweet, delicious. 

Warms your heart, 

Your soul,

Wraps your cold heart, 

in gentle wool.

~

So, nothing could be better. 

You write a letter,

Day after day.

But nobody sees it thrown away,

Or the tear streaks that lay,

Upon the pages of that story. 

But that coffee makes you feel better,

Admittedly.

Too bad, nobody does understand,

Nobody does see.

What it's like,

To be me. 

~

When they find out, 

They criticize,

I apologize,

Of course I much better like tea.

But in reality,

Not really. 

I like my frappé,

The aftertaste that stays. 

The ways,

The blaze, 

Of caramel. 

A foundation of lies 

hidden within the grain of truth,

Isn't that swell. 

Yet if you ask me,

I never did,

Like coffee. 

~

You can't lie to yourself for too long,

Before you create an illusion even you believe,

And it then becomes your reality.

But before long, 

All good things come to an end, 

and your cup is empty.

Refill,

Refill. 

But you have no loose change,

Stare at the wall,

Thinking back,

The day,

Memories.

~