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Oct 2014
It stung when the coffee touched my lips.
Hot, bitter coffee.

We used to sit outside coffee shops;
Talking about a life we hadn’t quite reached.
A life where we would travel the world,
And explore every corner of the universe.
But little did we know.

I seem to drink a lot more coffee now;
Maybe because I want to remember,
Or maybe because it’s the closet thing I have to not forgetting.
But none of them burnt like this one did.

It was stirred with a spoonful of hope;
Serve in a cup of remorse;
Mixed with emotion;
Heated on lust;

And it burnt.
Like the words, “I’m sorry I did this to you”
Or the kisses you left on my lips.
They burnt too.

And like a burnt tongue,
Even when the pain goes away you can still feel it.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
Meg Goodfellow
Written by
Meg Goodfellow  Australia
(Australia)   
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