Coffee Matrimony
I spent the better part of yesterday
attempting to unmarry my spilled coffee
from the pale carpet beside my desk.
A careless stretch of my arm
wrote their union, yet elbow grease
and soaps could not erase it.
The ink would not blot out,
would not annul nor offer divorce,
only separation, a small break.
They sleep in different rooms now,
the odor of chemicals lingering too
much like the perfume of another.
10 thoughts on "Coffee Matrimony"
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What a marvelous poem! Love the whole wedded bliss angle! Clever.
Ah, glad you like it!
Clever metaphor!
Thank you!
adore:
unmarry my spilled coffee
Happy to hear that!
That is a very good way to describe a stubborn stain!
Thank you!
This is so good! The metaphor never falters. I love “they sleep in different rooms now,” and how the last stanza is separate from the rest of the piece.
Aw, I appreciate you enjoying the small details. I was quite happy with how this piece came out.