Instant coffee.
From someone else's mug.
It's OK , she's in Spain.
Sugar doesn't fix it.
The taste makes me
smack my tongue
on the roof of my mouth.
Physically; I am present.
Mentally; I am absent.
Lost in a world
between the dark and dawn.
Stuck still between
the coolness of the plaster
and the silhouette
of your body.
It doesn't feel awkward.
There is comfort
in sharing the inky night.
And watching you
breathe, mumble and sigh.
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