TOILM

TOILM

The crisp cold scent of morning,

As the steam rises from my mug.

My hands embracing

The one I love most.

No longer interested in coffee

My strength comes from somewhere new,

We rise and fall,

To the beat of our hearts,

Gently,

Then more rapidly,

Stars explode,

And a cup of coffee

Sits,

Cooling on a windowsill,

Forgotten

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