Hope in the form of Expresso

A hot cup of coffee sits
between us
I hold it in my hands
seeking the warmth
to melt the ice inside me
a tear slips down my
cheek;
lands on the scars
Your green eyes speak to me
through the mist
they offer hope
I smile shakily,
try to keep some of that
hope for myself,
grasp on to it desperately
like the smell of the fresh coffee
that lingers on our skin.