they look similar,
the browns that can’t be told apart.
the tea stands in stark contrast
the coffee typically doesn’t blend in.
at first glance, in sync.
the perfection of rosy tints.
if true to form, the coffee would be herself,
dark, dissimilar, unalike, at odds.
if true to form, the tea would be himself,
hot, calming, sure.
they soak in this moment together,
not because they ought to,
not because it’s the norm.
it’s not life’s law,
it’s not how the world spins.
but this companionable silence,
all the smiles that come with tea,
all the plans with come with coffee,
all of it works, because they do.
love isn’t power. the effort is.