April 4th: Food Saga Pt. I - Caution! This Love May Be Hot!

Our love has dwindled, like a cup
Of rich, delicious coffee:
What we have, what love remains,
Is in a mug that’s nearly empty.

Our love right now is that last gulp
Of cold, Columbian brew,
Growing stagnant, bitter, and old,
Reminding me of you.

Don’t get the wrong idea, though,
As that penultimate
Sip was refreshing and glorious,
And extremely sweet:

Saturated with the remnants
Of some sugar and some cream
Added when the cup was new,
Fresh and hot and full of energy,

It made me think that this last drink
Could maybe be delish,
But I knew from past experience
That such a thought was foolish.

I don’t want to finish this off,
Drink the damned thing down,
For I know that its foul tang will mark my tongue
And fight to stick around.

Yet, I don’t want to get up and dump
Remainders down the drain,
But I know while it sits there,
The chalk white mug will stain.

The coffee left in that damn mug
Will taint it with the flavor,
And when I pour my next hot cup
It’s a mixture that I’ll savor.

At some point I will arise
And rinse the cold batch out,
But as I stand to wash it clean,
I’m struck with fresh hot doubt.

Either way, I’m ending it --
It’s going to be done --
But should I let it bite my tongue?
Or lament it when it’s gone?

Or is this really the point at all?
After I stand to wash it clear,
Whatever comfort lingered with this swallow
Will surely disappear.