Warmth graces my lips.
A slight parting embraces the fresh brew.
I feel the jasmine aroma dance
around me and the lavender
combat any stresses from the day before.
I watch the steam sway and
disappear into the cold apartment.
The cup loses its warmth the more I drink.
Sips turn to gulps.
Cravings for serenity grow stronger.
The high is fleeting.
The warmth is tepid at best;
it doesn't stop my craving.
The cup is empty.
I must brew another cup.
YOU ARE READING
Caffeine and Me
PoetryA collection of poetry ranging from brain farts to exploring why I bother getting up in the morning. Most likely there is some form of caffeine to keep me awake (or alert) enough to type my thoughts out regarding my depression, struggles within my d...
