100 Cups of Coffee Later By Kimberly Siehl

100 Cups of Coffee Later

It will be September and your skin will be sun-kissed
and slightly worn from his rough hands
and wandering tongue
and you will feel as if you could
sprout wings from your vertebrae.
A few months will pass and you will find yourself tangled up
In his dark blue sheets in a room that smells like sex
and glade plug-ins
and you will wonder why nothing has smelled this good before.
Some days you will hear him laugh
and see him smile at old couples
and pet dogs that pass him by on the street.
A few months will go by
and he will stop gripping your hand so tightly
and will start to forget how you take your coffee.
Cream and sugar is fine.
You settle for tea.
A few weeks will go by and you will ache
and the veins in your arms will be the only
things that remind you that color still exists.
A few more weeks will go by and you will
take yourself on a long walk.
And just when you think you’re okay,
you will see him drive by in his beat up ford
listening to a song on the radio that probably reminds him
of a girl with brighter eyes
and steadier hands.
And just when you think you don’t need him anymore
you will leave him a 60 second voicemail of you crying
and you will try to hang up before he can start to smell the vodka
through the receiver.
It is over now and you can’t fall asleep at night
because you can’t close your eyes without thinking
about his favorite movies
or the way he licks his lips when he looks at you.
But you will meet someone else someday
who will start a fire in your belly
and will create a new light under your skin.
And when he asks you how you take your coffee,
smile at him with those beautiful teeth
and tell him you drink it black.

By Kimberly Siehl


My name is Kimberly Siehl and I’m a 20 year old student at The College of New Jersey studying clinical psychology and spanish. I love writing, singing, dogs, and good food.

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