Breakfast

you only came in for the coffee
you tell me
as your well-formed arm reaches over my open notebook.
Your hands are empty, I see.

Something other than you
has got to fill my lungs
something other than
your proximity
the waves floating off your skin
the beams glancing off those eyes
has got to walk through that door.

and if it doesn't,
i might leave this place with you.

abusing a body that has already been there before
doesn't feel as bad as it used to.

after all,
what does it matter who shits where I eat when
i've lost count already.