She was like that of coffee stains
faded yet still lingering
you could measure her years by the rings left on the table
the one she spent her evenings upon evenings
pouring her heart out onto loose leaf paper,
cancelling commitments,
and shooting scalding caffeine into her veins
attempting to drown out the pain
but all it did was turn everything a distasteful shade of yellow
and bury her further underneath
all the regret and sorrow
because out the windowsill to her left
life kept passing her by
wishing and waiting for her to come back
but alas the aroma of coffee beans consumed her
and she faded into the pen grooves on the table
for life anymore was just a fading blur…
