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#brunch
At brunch everyone discussed attachment styles with the intensity of medieval monks arguing over dragons Meanwhile a man named Trevor cried quietly into an omelet which honestly felt securely attached
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May 2
May 2, 2026 at 10:37 AM UTC
Attachment Styles at Brunch
Awaken me in shades of pink, To the warmth of your blush—   Let’s fill these empty spaces With our sleepy morning smiles.   The taste of morning; you devouring The entire world with your loud, Yet delightful yawns.   Do I cherish as deeply as A flower does, on who plucks it?   _A pretty thing_ – I’m pretty sure We all love to be picked out First from the bouquet. Share with me the moment you’re Savouring on; caught in the fleeting Seconds lingering on your lips.   It must have been A delightful little brunch.   Wasn’t that where our paths first crossed? My memory isn’t  as sharp as it once Was, to recall all we shared.   That empty plate was merely a canvas For your affection; you nourished me Well, as a true friend.
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Nov 21, 2024
Nov 21, 2024 at 12:33 PM UTC
We met at Brunch
ive been going out every weekend i dont know if its bad or good i don’t know if im sad or masking I dont know if i am replacing habits with other bad habits maybe im the bad habit the liable rabbit that fell down the rabbit hole i always seem to overflow producing tears by the bucket load i didnt mean to unload too much unfold too much, save that for drunken spring brunch grateful for my team, i know that much but its hard to me to show my real love but i live and i learn, i larbour and earn i wait for my turn, the tables always seem to turn take a left, trust i’m right, work the day, come alive at night
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Mar 21, 2022
Mar 21, 2022 at 9:49 AM UTC
save it for later
The clock strikes at 2 pm, While you stare blankly at the coffee half empty, You watched the water vapour formed into thin cloud, Vanished into thin air as time slipped away. The conversations in a cozy cafe became louder, Everyone's conversations became part of unnecessary music in your ears. They sang about life's trouble, Questioned the whereabouts of their food, Pounded if they should get a dessert. And then, it went to silence again. Your gaze drifted off, Back to your troubled mind, And suddenly you heard them again.
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Sep 8, 2020
Sep 8, 2020 at 11:27 AM UTC
Conversations on a Sunday brunch
on saturday morning we grace around recycled rustic tables, lowering our heads over gluten free brown toast topped with gently scrambled free range eggs, adding soya milk to decaffeinated, ethically sourced coffee, self contained in guilt free reusable cups - and still we fret.
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Oct 5, 2019
Oct 5, 2019 at 7:27 AM UTC
Fret
Cake You can eat it too! My frying pan Is half empty Hate me Because I am good No! Because I am great! Michelan Stars Trips to Mars Candy bars Mason jars Drunk I am Said the can To the packet Of ketchup Baker's square I worked there Line cook nook Splatters shook! The kitchen man Burns the water The ******** fan Yearns for slaughter
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Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 12:26 AM UTC
I Am a Sourdough *******
I could’ve woken you up in the morning and could’ve been the sun that rises even when we both live in a place where it never does. I could’ve taken you to museums, at least 2 of where I’ve been to. The first one, we’ll have to take the bus because I’d tell you that I’m too lazy to drive but for the second one, I will tell you that I’ll drive you there. My car would look at me as though it knows that there is another soul seating in the passenger seat – it was no longer some books, a box of pizza, or my dog. I could’ve taken photos of you in that place, post them everywhere but subtly so that they can see that there are at least 2 forms of art in that photo — the one you’re looking at and the one I’m looking at. I could’ve talked to you at night under the stars, in the same rooftop where I told you that I liked the cathartic experience of doing just what we could’ve done; the same rooftop where you talked about your life, at least some pieces of it. I could’ve brought you to where I used to study. We could’ve walked the halls that stared at me for being too alone and too lonely only so I could tell them, “Hey, here he is, finally.” and they could’ve smiled at me because they know how long the longing lasted. We could’ve taken a stroll in the shade of the trees or could’ve had a picnic there while watching the joggers and the sunset. I could’ve introduced you to my friends – they’ve been meaning to meet you. They too know how long I’ve been stuck on an island by myself. They know who I was when I was eleven and when I was sixteen and I bet, if you gave them a chance, you could’ve heard the crazy things we did. And maybe they could’ve liked you. They could’ve told me how lucky I was and probably would’ve warned me that if I hurt you, they’d stick with you instead of me. I could’ve introduced you to my family — my mom liked you even then. I could’ve introduced you to my little brother who I would consider as the biggest and most important judge of character because I believe that children can sense goodness in people and he could’ve seen that in you. I could’ve written you letters, could’ve left random little tokens I would've used for all the words I cannot muster to say. I could’ve played the piano for you even if I just know, at most, 3 songs; even though I don’t really know how to read notes at all. I could’ve introduced you to the artists I like and I could’ve known more of yours. I could’ve listened to them and I would have had to remember you every time. I could’ve held your hand, could’ve eaten brunch with you, could’ve read you a poem. I could’ve loved you — could have – if I was the given the chance. But, I was and I could’ve used it but I didn’t.
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Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
Because Today is the Last Day
I could’ve woken you up in the morning and could’ve been the sun that rises even when we both live in a place where it never does. I could’ve taken you to museums, at least 2 of where I’ve been to. The first one, we’ll have to take the bus because I’d tell you that I’m too lazy to drive but for the second one, I will tell you that I’ll drive you there. My car would look at me as though it knows that there is another soul seating in the passenger seat – it was no longer some books, a box of pizza, or my dog. I could’ve taken photos of you in that place, post them everywhere but subtly so that they can see that there are at least 2 forms of art in that photo — the one you’re looking at and the one I’m looking at. I could’ve talked to you at night under the stars, in the same rooftop where I told you that I liked the cathartic experience of doing just what we could’ve done; the same rooftop where you talked about your life, at least some pieces of it. I could’ve brought you to where I used to study. We could’ve walked the halls that stared at me for being too alone and too lonely only so I could tell them, “Hey, here he is, finally.” and they could’ve smiled at me because they know how long the longing lasted. We could’ve taken a stroll in the shade of the trees or could’ve had a picnic there while watching the joggers and the sunset. I could’ve introduced you to my friends – they’ve been meaning to meet you. They too know how long I’ve been stuck on an island by myself. They know who I was when I was eleven and when I was sixteen and I bet, if you gave them a chance, you could’ve heard the crazy things we did. And maybe they could’ve liked you. They could’ve told me how lucky I was and probably would’ve warned me that if I hurt you, they’d stick with you instead of me. I could’ve introduced you to my family — my mom liked you even then. I could’ve introduced you to my little brother who I would consider as the biggest and most important judge of character because I believe that children can sense goodness in people and he could’ve seen that in you. I could’ve written you letters, could’ve left random little tokens I would've used for all the words I cannot muster to say. I could’ve played the piano for you even if I just know, at most, 3 songs; even though I don’t really know how to read notes at all. I could’ve introduced you to the artists I like and I could’ve known more of yours. I could’ve listened to them and I would have had to remember you every time. I could’ve held your hand, could’ve eaten brunch with you, could’ve read you a poem. I could’ve loved you — could have – if I was the given the chance. But, I was and I could’ve used it but I didn’t.
Continue reading...
16
mismatched wood tape on ceiling sauces on table genuine laughter dessert board with pie silverware noises talk about oil khaki pants pouring drinks in the morning
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Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 2:04 PM UTC
Scene in a Restaurant
Saturday Morning - It's a little cloudy, It's a little windy. Text: We're going to get brunch So get ready. Thoughts: I'm hungry! It's getting late and we have to go to a birthday party. Baby. hurry! Menu: I can't have anything heavy, Me and my girlfriend were out yesterday. To the lady: Strawberry crepes for me, please, I'll also have a caramel macchiato, and... Can you add a Perrier? Thanks. Across the table: What is this moment? It's not butterflies, there's no knots in my stomach. I think it's love...it's definitely happiness... This is straight out of a movie... No, nothing speacial happened. It was just a cloudy Saturday morning But there was enough Sun to hit our window, And I just couldn't believe I was living that moment.
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Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 11:18 PM UTC
Strawberry Crepes
I sat at a bar to eat some chicken and waffles I drank my coffee As much as I wanted to I added to my story Of how elated I was of my solitude Don't steal my money A lady stands close to me She opens up an umbrella And the tears now only came from the sky You are gr8 But nope...
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Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC
chicken, waffles
Plush beads of summer rain gently kiss the windows, pitter pattering steadily in contrast to the low hums and stutters of the red coffee *** that saves many souls lost in a daze of former slumber; a lengthy stretch, she leans back against the cream, or maybe more ivory, sofa couch, wiggling it up and down her frame and in its last push released with a crack through the tips of her toes. scrumptious smells of eggs and breakfast meats, brunch is always her favorite hour, balancing the crisp texture of toast against the delightful spritz of OJ, sometimes blended with a splash of something sparkling. the chords and rhythms that thrummed and purred, the puttering, the humming, the stuttering, a baritone chuckle escaping his smirking mouth, the moment so inescapably charming, how satisfying their ritual felt.
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Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 5:11 PM UTC
Brunch