There's Honeycomb stains in my drained coffee! Twisting amber lines on porcelain so faint the eye barely sees! What, don't believe me? So I'm gonna drain cup after cup all so you can see; Golden honeycomb stains in my drained, love-sweetend coffee.
chapped lips in the underground. cream skin with Blue eyes held red bars closer than me. This is erratic. Listening to screeching underfoot To drown out blonde wild winds a cyclone to taste the sky. It was far too brief. come back.
Getting lost in the Coffeeshop Quartet. Birring grinders and steamy explosions chattering friends- coffee tinged emotions. Everyone's exploring with their faces upbeat, a little bubble of warmth against the cold harsh street.
In learning to say sorry: There must be an acceptance of a mistake. So stop apologising for your existence and learn to live and love- for no one else's sake.