Better Coffee, fully realized

I maintained myself a stranger to
you, the woman I preferred. Whenever
you asked about myself, I’d dread a
loss wrought by my own hands. After
bathing with these worries, I’d punish
myself with deserved bitter coffee.

Worse than a bad brew was me forgetting
the times you sought me. In the ankle-deep
pond where I was drowning, was you who’d
      remind me to sit up and breathe.

And here’s me still in the shallow
wishing for us to sail again through
ocean waves of playful tensions. Us once
expecting me to move from coy interest to
steady assurance. But there was only the
      pace of molasses with me anticipating
      a then yet-to-be ending.

Please, if we could as we did before:
explore locales like young adults
together on a Friday night.
      Fondly, of course, with splashes
            of reminiscing too.

Though haunting, still, is the memory
of the darling air from your lips that
      rekindles a feeling, which I
      still can’t recall.

      Upon our first encounter, alleged
	by you, white rum won against reason
		and attempted romance proceeded
                  to the silliest of
                  unexpected
                  movements.

                  Expectedly, my advances
                  were respectably defeated.

We tried again, but the greatest variable against
us was not the congruency of our souls. It became
my lurching towards your heart colored
      by the terror of losing you. The fears
      weighed on my soul—a habit learned
            from dreading the Enemy’s fires.

Possessed by a cross-borne guilt, I had went
through the underworld and returned to the edge
only to look back. That doubt saw my return
to the self-imposed shoal
      where I continue
      to lose breath.

I can’t blame you. Despite
the fruit of time and retrospect,
      I’d prefer the fault
      lie with me.

Still, these lamentations aren’t
      exciting in the adventurous sort of way.
      Danger was evidently not in any of my names, something
            you’ve maybe already crossed out on a list.

Though you’re certainly worth hoping for, coveting doesn’t
suit me. Could I love you better if we had made it?
Fortunately, because of you and each day
I get to remember you, I made off as
	someone who, unlike that self
         in nightmares where I forget,
	      now has better coffee.