Coffee-Laced Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

And she tousles her
Hair as she purses her thin lips;
Cushioning the glass
Filled with coffee.
Coffee-laced and star-crossed
She fiddles with her own hands
As she reaches for
Her senses
Across the coffee table,
Juxtaposed to the Victorian vases

And she tells you all
The words and executes
The right gestures as the
Sunlight clambers over your bodies.
She tells you the trees
Laugh at the stones,
And the stones sleep over
The asphalt and
You lose yourself with these
Petty allegories.

And you tell her
That the twilight has a solace
Waiting for her,
And she smiles modestly
Because she’s more confused
Than flattered because
The heart could only take
Fewer pummels rather than
Ephemeral joys
And she holds your hand
And you’re more anxious
Than certain because
The hand could only hold
For so long

She tells you pristine words
And you tell her terrible truths.
She mocks your voice
And your voice muses over her skin,

And you realize that
The only way to make it out
Is to try not hurting anyone
But yourself.