one

it is good to go unnoticed--
i am a fly on the wall,
a wide-eyed child,
one of the crowd,
a scream at a concert,
i am nothing; i feel everything.
no one knows me here,
they do not see the sorrows that
i hide under my beanie,
they do not know the treasure
of dark coffee to tired soul.
or perhaps they do.
perhaps that is why they play this unknown song overhead,
perhaps that is why he woke up a goofball,
perhaps that is why that is painted on the wall,
they know the bittersweet of
sunny morning and dark roast.
i wrote a song two days ago
that may have been prophecy,
little did i know i would
tell my own story.
girl walks into coffee shop,
she aches for her love and she's not done yet:
tell her to drink black coffee
it makes her feel tough, i bet.