My Lover: A poem

Olivia Staser/Staff

My Lover lives in a coffee mug,

Is never cold in bed,

A glowing reminder of warmth in my palm,

A pleasant buzz inside my head.


My Lover resides in a paintbrush,

Anticipating every stroke,

Filled with color and with vibrance,

With passion to sweetly evoke.


My Lover sits in a punching bag,

Always willing to take a hit,

And when the world comes raining down on me,

I know I can rely on it.


My Lover is in a plate of spring strawberries,

Like tiny red hearts for me,

Crimson bobbles of sugar glowing,

Next to a jar of cream and tea


But no.


My lover doesn’t live in the mirror,

and when I see her reflected face,

I cannot trace the love I crave,

Nor those empty eyes – erase.


I may have a lover in a coffee cup,

In a punching bag, berries or a brush,

But I cannot find love within myself

Not a gentle kiss or touch


For the face in the mirror is hollowed out,

Eyes painted dulled hues of blue

With cups of caffeine and countless strikes,

With hunger unfilled, for you.

Contact Olivia Staser at [email protected].

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