early morings//late nights at the bridge

i drink my coffee black
with a hint of honey, just like she liked it.
sip on the bitter brew, condition myself to like it.
i hold my cigarette in the corner of my mouth, like she did,
practice smoking it to the nub like she taught me to.
i ignore the rain outside,
imagine cold spring sunrises on the porch
and try to finish my work,
all the while dreaming of sleep
(where you will visit
simultaneously cursing me and
asking for my forgiveness).