One Hundred Mornings of Coffee and Oranges

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Coffee and Oranges
Sit on the table
Untouched,
For one hundred mornings.
Avoiding eye contact
For one hundred mornings
As if they had never met.
She hasn’t heard him say
Those three words
In one hundred mornings.
That isn’t him
Sitting in front of her.
She hasn’t seen him
In one hundred mornings.
Just the coffee and oranges.
It looks just like him
But it’s not the same.
Coffee and oranges
Haven’t changed
During those harsh
One hundred mornings.





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