Down the
ends
of lost connection,
seeing your reflection inside every paper cup,
I longed for your face,
ached for you to surface
from the depths of every quiet pool--
of tea or coffee.
Wish granted/you stare back
seeped in cream and tea leaves
the screen my only moon.
In colour,
in
black and white
you have retained every glimpse
of your soul's
beauty. But there are no smiles meant for me.
Only
the burned-out ways of
too much caffeine
and
the bitter aftertaste of
accidentally drinking you.
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