This morning, the coffee tastes less sweet.
I close my eyes, as I feel it run down my inside.
Curling softly like waves against my inner cheek.
The period for repossession is indistinct.
Yet, with every swallow, every diluted breath
The time elapses without resounding signals.
Like this bitter coffee,
We carry flaws,
Flaws that become obvious like the bruise on a red delicious,
Would I still taste the fruit.
Knowing I warrant more?