My Cup of Coffee

I woke to the smell of coffee
Seeping through my broken heart
A note said, “I’m sorry.”

Somehow, a part of the pain
Left as I bring the cup
To my lips.

Bland. No, not again.

How many times have I
And how many more times will I
Tell you not to put too much water?

Every cup of apology
Is just another way of telling me
That after all these years
You either did not care to know
Or you never really tried
To make my cup of coffee.