my cup of coffee

i long for the first sip that burns the tip of my tongue, only for it to run a warmth right through me.

70% arabica, 30% robusta, and maybe even notes of honey and dried fruit.

i crave it. that lingering flavor of bitterness that remain in the trenches of my salivary glands as caffeine rushes through my veins.

while i watch the morning sun bleed between the interstices of the window screen, i feel myself beginning to recollect my existence.

and just for a brief moment, i pull away from the half-conscious state, inadvertent, inescapable.

it’s just a cup of coffee.


One thought on “my cup of coffee

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