Better Together

Dark oaky aromas rise from your petite glass,

filling the burnt-orange room,

turning the corners of your stagnant rose-colored lips.

Waves of sweet caffeinated chocolate rush from my oversized ceramic mug,

coating the roof of my mouth

giving me a sweet dopamine release.

Slow and soothing acoustics;

soft and smooth vocals fill the coffeehouse.

You focus intently on illegible scrawls

in that muted-violet notebook.

Sounds of fast words spoken in another language,

surge through my headphones.

I hit computer keys with force:

it cuts through the surrounding voices.

Words of frustration and confusion

flow from your strong vocal cords.

Your warm eyes scan over a white screen,

of terminology only a doctor need know.

My long untamed nails dig into

my cold pale fleshy creases.

Voices of Poe and Doyle ring

in the empty space behind my forehead.

In every respect,

you are the salt to my sugar:

great on our own,

but together,

we are better.