Dear Celine,

I received a text a while ago which I believe was a plea from a lover,

I trust you know who, and I would be sad to discover

That you let them leave without a cup of coffee together–

Yet I suppose I’ll forever be stuck in the wheather. 

Celine, were you afraid to let yourself be loved?

Is that why I received a text from your beloved?

Perhaps, in fear, you gave them my number 

Instead of yours, and returned to your slumber

Never to see them again. Oh, the sorrow

Their heart must have faced when the fateful morrow

Rolled around and you were unaware that all they wanted

Was to have some coffee with you. They were probably so daunted

To send the text that ended up coming to me—

Oh, Celine, can’t you see?

What if you let the love of your life slip through your fingers 

Let their love for you just sit around and linger…

And what if you never love again?

What will you do then?

Or even worse, what if they never move on

And they believe the love of their life is gone?

Oh, but why do I really care?

It’s not worth me pulling out my hair.

(But maybe the secret reason that I do

Is that I wonder if I will end up just like you:

Will I one day end up passing on some caffeine 

Because I become afraid to love, like you, Celine?)

Anyways, Celine, whoever you are, I hope you didn’t mess with fate,

And you let them love you before it was too late.