I'm that coffee left too long, cold and distant waiting for the sun to heat me back again.
I'm that bread left too long, dried and hard, now filled with wild molds of realizations.
I'm that tea left too long, bitter and rigor, hoping for something sweet to liven me up.
I'm that imperfect breakfast that no one wants, the reason of most bearably skips in every good or bad mornings.
YOU ARE READING
Galaxies of Feelings
PoetryWriting is a form of expression of feelings bearing your mind's creative and imaginative thinking and your heart's desire to showcase your art and share the wonders of every letter spoken. Poetry is a type that does the readers an imaginative feeli...
