‘On Accepting and Shelving My Burnt-Black-Coffee Self: A Poem
When I socialise, demoralised
over cup after cup of glass-half-full
non-caffeinated
virtual hot beverage, I am immediately uncoupled from my twin flames, myself and I, so who’s left?
Me. Burnt out. Black-coffeed. Dramatically dehydrated.
I hug my burnt-black-coffee self with my loose arms, muscles relaxed, but steady as bookshelves,
momentarily armed, moneyed, materialised with breathing, reading material.
Bye-bye or rather welcome (back), sugar!
Comments
Post a Comment