Coffee
Burning and biting.
A ceramic mug in my hand.
Coffee feels pitiful.
Against the weary sensation-
In my eyeballs.
Not rushing, but still shaking.
My drink never spills.
The coffee simply twirls around and-
I fall asleep for the fifth time since breakfast and-
The mug is set, gently on the table.
I did that. I set it down gently.
Or maybe someone else did.
I dump out my coffee, which is now cold.
Brewing another cup.
Again.
Copyright © Angelica Tao | Year Posted 2024
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