this luke-warm bitter coffee
does not a breakfast make—
each drop on my tongue makes my stomach wince
and it pools into my belly
making it ache from emptiness:
some sweetener, fake sugar: cancer-causing calories
of nothing—i'm still hungry with every sip
because my gluttonies are never satisfied
like this morning—our bodies flopped down
from the strains of love-making, but still
our bellies yearned for more: your belly ached
for my cancer-causing calories:
sweet, bitter, luke-warm—
this does not a romance make.
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