An ode to coffee

O coffee, how you torment me.
You taste as morose poison
Burning my mouth like pitch-black lava,
It should be a warning -
But yet I yearn for more

A midnight sky on a starless night
A feather on the breast of a raven
Fresh charcoal from a misguided fire
How much is shown in those shades of null,
But yet none can compare to you

You are ascetic in your taste
And silent in your look
But never less, you say so much

The tilt of the mug
The heat on my hands
And a flowing river of mourning
Ahh...