She doesn't like coffee too much
But she drinks it anyway
And after she throws back a swig
Of the said refreshment
It leaves a burnt aftertaste in her mouth.
The immediate sensation of the coffee
Isn't entirely terrible
It warms her chest and is actually sort of sweet
But there is still a sour hint on her tastebuds
Just enough that she should expect what's coming.
She should have known it before
This love is exactly like coffee to her
Though it's invigorating at first,
She should have noticed; The signs were all there.
And now she just waits, and waits, and waits
For this burnt aftertaste to end.
YOU ARE READING
Violet Dreams
Puisi"We wander and we let the words lead us." Old Poetry. Not my best. But still here :)
