Black Coffee and Grey Stories

An empty vase lives on my kitchen table

Tall, reflective, curving into a blossomed flower

Sits by itself collecting dust and fruit flies

It won’t bite on touch I know that

But my eyes burn looking at it

So we keep our distance

Reminiscing dead moments of pure joy

One day it was flaunting tulips

Another day sunflowers

Today it holds anger

Along with regrets relaxing in tears of loss.

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There is an empty vase on my kitchen table

And I cannot throw it out

Because it is still strong and sturdy

Unbroken and reflective

Only empty of the hydrangeas

And the love we had.