Nothing can compete with a steaming cup of coffee.
First thing in the morning. Half-asleep. Half-awake.
A creamy cappuccino with an intoxicating aroma.
Such a timeless cup of coffee, with beautiful
Patterns waltzing over the pristine cream.
Maybe a leaf, or a light-brown heart.
Such intricate artwork.
They say it's the little things in life.
But why the temptation to destroy it?
How satisfying it is to pillage the coffee
With a cold metal spoon. Disrupting
The harmony of perfection. Stirring
Violently until all that remains
Is a brown indisputable mess.
You are like a fresh cup of coffee.
Exhilarating yet delicate. Vulnerable.
Hold it there. I'm scared of what I'd do
If someone handed me a metal spoon.