Bitter Coffee

I looked at the empty coffee cup in my hand, and
The grains at the bottom—
Bitter remnants of the liquid pleasure.
And then, I looked at you—
At your face—
A bitter remnant of the one I love.
You finished your coffee
With a frown
At the last swig;
Only several packs of sugar
Could have improved the palate’s perception
Of it.
Then I made another order—
Hot chocolate.
But it was all but hot,
And the marshmallows,
No longer buoyant.
But I paid for it,
And so I finished it,
Believing my palate would have to adjust
From the coffee
And that it would taste better
After a while.