cinnamon coffee

Hair black as coffee and it unfurls in caffeine-driven curls,
while from obsidian eyes cinnamon sparkles down her cheeks to meet shades of desert rose
(and they match the energy of her mind and the temperament of a day of gale-force warning)

Black thunder clouds of cynicism and sarcasm alternating with iridescent soap-bubble lightness of deep southern-blue skies,
from time to time suddenly expelling a shooting star of childish-sweet glee, an expression of delight at the sight of something big-eyedly cute
(and though these seem mismatched and incoherent they all are sugar-fuelled)

Black tea in a white mug and donut-ringed fingers clicking away the hours,
steaming paper clouds exhaled on cold cashmere scarf days and bleeding ink from sandy feet wandering deserts of malls
(and she works hard to match herself to her belief in the possibility of having it all)

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