#humorandstillness
⭐ THE UNPOLISHED SEASON — Poem IV
The spoon gave up first.
Not the coffee,
not the light,
not even the fridge
with its night‑shift sighs –
the spoon.
It lay in the mug
like a cold, silver protest,
refusing to stir anything
that even resembled effort.
I nudged it.
It didn’t move.
I nudged it again.
It responded with the quiet authority
of someone who has already drafted
their resignation letter.
Apparently,
it was tired of being the only thing
expected to stay polished
in a kitchen full of quitters.
The coffee had abandoned
its rescue business yesterday.
The light still squinted
like it hadn’t slept.
The silence –
the same one that’s been gathering
its own dust and hair since last night –
sat between us,
unhelpful as ever.
And I –
well, I wasn’t exactly
a motivational poster either.
So the spoon decided
it was done performing.
Done swirling hope into mornings.
Done pretending to be helpful.
It leaned against the mug’s rim,
trembling slightly –
not from effort,
but from the relief
of finally choosing itself.
And honestly,
I couldn’t blame it.
Some days,
even the silverware
has better boundaries
than I do.
May 18
May 18, 2026 at 2:39 PM UTC
⭐ THE UNPOLISHED SEASON — Poem I
(A small morning rebellion, starring a mug that refuses to help.)
The coffee didn’t even try.
It sat in the mug, dark and stubborn,
informing me through a thin veil of steam
that it was done with the rescue business.
Apparently, I am on my own.
The steam rose in a slow,
disappointed shrug –
the kind you give a friend
who never learns.
Light leaned into the kitchen sideways,
squinting,
looking like it had slept fitfully
and wasn’t ready for a conversation.
The fridge hummed with the heavy,
oxygen‑starved solidarity
of a night‑shift worker
who just wants to clock out.
The spoon was useless.
It lay on the counter,
feigning a deep, silver sleep
to avoid being involved.
There was no grand epiphany.
No metaphor waiting in the shadows
to make this meaningful.
Just a room,
a cold caffeine resignation,
and the quiet realization
that the day isn’t a performance –
it’s simply a space
where I have to learn
how to stand
without being held up.
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 7:26 AM UTC