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Mourning Brew

A poem by Sydney Reffeitt, junior English Education Major

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Bitter,

like the coffee

on the table,

losing its

warmth

after it ended.


The taste

of the coffee

circulates

in my heart,

pumping

to the rest

of the body

you stopped caring about.


The mug’s

presence

slowly fades,

a detail

lost

to the struggle.


The sugar

sunk,

never dissolving,

memories lingering


And the

sweet cream

masks

the bitter taste,

an empty smile

that ignores

the conflict at hand.


I noticed

a chip

in the handle;

maybe

it was always there

or maybe

it chipped

a few months ago.


And when

I made a fist,

the lines

on my hands

looked like

the crazing

crawling all over

the mug of coffee.


My fist remained

in the same form

as I drove it

through the mug

and its bitter contents.


Coffee spread

across the table,

letting the

stack of papers

have a taste.


It dribbled

into a puddle

on the

cold tile,

leaving

my fist,

my favorite mug,

and my heart

entirely

shattered.



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