रामराम #3
Coffee
Its bitter warmth
reminds me of you.
Some love it black -
uncorrupted -
some add a bit of sugar,
but the most insecure of all
drown it in milk.
I am a lover of its raw
black shade.
I am a lover of you -
an unfiltered cup
of freshly brewed
ground coffee.
Nothing beats a good Americano in the dying moments of morning's sobriety.
Can the consumption of coffee be a practice for decaffeinating one's soul?
I can see a universe at the bottom of my cup, clouded by a layer of addiction.
Another day in the madhouse
xxv.vi.mmxviii
We flood
our empty
stomachs
with black
coffee, to
wake up
the dreamer
that died
last night.
The smell
and the warmth
both elevate,
leaving the
victim prepared
for another
day in the
madhouse.
life begins after coffee.
If you enjoyed this post, you might also enjoy reading yesterday's रामराम!
रामराम