– Olivia Roney

the coffee is cold now the
dregs read a story
i know now by memory
and i wonder if you ever even liked the taste

warmth filtered through curtains
on mornings
too cold for salvation
and I’m reminded of the places
light shone
out of the cracks in my chest

there is solace in knowing
my memory
just isn’t what it used to be

the coffee is cold now
i put more water on to boil
it screamed

i let it.