To my Coffee Mug

 

To my Coffee Mug

Do you remember how you used to wake me up,

your bitter kiss on my lips,

making no promises about the day ahead?

And there was that one time 

I decided to become a photographer,

so I took pictures of you,

then ran them through different filters.

Finally, I made you the star of a short film

and there was even a modern poem

all about you.

The camera got stolen the next summer.

The digital art is still online, I guess.

The Internet remembers.

And then there was that time I chipped you, 

then refused to throw you away?

You haven’t changed much since then.

And I don’t know why,

but I don’t use you at all now.

I can’t tell if you feel the same indifference.

GloPoWriMo Day 2 - a platonic love poem