you like your coffee bitter
like you like your women, jaded
like burnt pepper, broken
like ripped tea leaves.
but, today I’ve been warned to be gentle with your heart.
a heart that I supposed
was composed of smooth stones
and shells that crack with jagged edges.
I spend most of my time talking about poetry,
mostly because
I think it mirrors the way that
life spills out of mouths over
lattes that watch the snow fall.
I want to throw snowballs inside your rib cage
just to make sure you feel alive
because
you like your poetry aggressive
like you like a snow-plow, efficient
like a drive thru, metrical
like a sonnet.
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