My coffee was black,
it seemed the rest of the room was just so.
we sat and drank,
and looked silently ahead,
at what, I’m not sure.
You told me that silence is golden.
I replied that silence is overrated.
every now and then I would take a sip,
the blackness falling into a black hole.
after a while you asked me,
“What type of music do you like?”
i jumped at this,
just the chance I’d been waiting for,
to show just how complex I was.
to impress you with my taste…
the look on your face after I finished,
suggested my taste was black.
like my coffee.