Coffee

It's a bit tragic how the poems dedicated to you aren't even non-fictional.

It's like as if I process events unfolding with a romantic filter.

It's as if I brewed coffee with tea leaves and expect the same result. 

The words let me live out fantasies.

And the rhyme makes it seem as if there was a reason to thinking this way. 

And when there is no rhyme I like to think it's the emotional fiction taking over. 

And I don't want to think that there is no reality in my words.

Or in my rhyme and no rhyme.

Or even the filters put in place. 

But the tea hints at a stronger, nuttier, more caffeinated brew.