Nighttime Coffee Shop

Dead eyes, night lights,

a sea of stars drowns in obsidian skies

and Time’s withered claws scrape across

the mirror in your mind.

Or is it a window?


Eyes shine bright in the reflection

but there’s something on the other side:

the huff and bustle of sleepy coffee shop life.

Rain drips down the glass beneath your tired eyelids.

Or is it a curtain?


Stained-glass tear stains,

the rain melts the rose-colored windows into view.

Is it steam that fogs your sleepy mind?

Blink. Stare. Repeat.


Pillow stuffed with dreams undreamt,

held hostage by nightmares that are.

Or is it the feathers that tickle you awake?

Tickle? I meant choke.


Rip their claws off your neck,

wake up and smell the coffee!

Or is it desperation?

Breathe it in, let the caffeinated air

fill your lungs until they implode,

and look – you’re alive!


Insomnia loves the taste you leave

in its gaping labyrinth mouth,

and my favorite color eyes

are the ones that are open

because obscurity

is just another word for blinking too long.


And what are you doing here, anyway?

You’re looking for something, aren’t you?

Or someone?

Then perhaps this is a mirror after all.


© Copyright Samantha Rose 2018



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