Coffee and Manuscripts
The scene the same as always
A room for two and books, books, and nothing but books scattered.
No trace of the light blue carpet that covers the paint splattered floor.
Manuscripts, yes, Manuscripts one after another cover the plush gray bed.
A run of the mill girl in her world slaving away for what?
Fame? Fortune? Attention? What?
Who knows anymore she’s too far gone to remember.
She waits for something….
An idea? A miracle? A sign?
Nope just another cup of coffee.
She leaves her domain to foreign territory
The kitchen avoiding her mother’s harsh ridicule, and her brother’s shameless profanity
A sigh escapes her slightly chapped lips her escape could only last so long
Back to her dimension of hard covered books and coffee stained manuscripts.
Typing on faded letter one after another forming words
Words of hate, words of love, words of scorn…..
And words of dreams trapped in her heart that will never come true
She stops to take a sip of her caffeine salvation before slipping back to typing
Her mind trapped in a den of her dreams
She knew a funny thing about dreams
They shatter, crumble, and dissolve to what?
Reality? Nothing? What?
So many questions swirling through her mind but her mind goes to a halts
What could it be?
Her cup is empty…
She ventures out again to reality for a brief moment to retain her precious fuel
Her world is an abyss, heart gone astray, emotions hallucinatory
Forsaken to a life of bittersweet coffee, dilapidated manuscripts and razor-sharp pencils…
No she wasn’t alone she had him
The gentle voice in her head, the beating in her heart, he was there
He cheered her on, helped her when she was stuck, and made her coffee.
He is everywhere surveying her, caring for her, and keeping her sane
He is her coffee, her mother’s smirk, her brothers mockery
He is her friend, her companion, her coffee
He is God…