Right on my chest,
Just under the spot,
where a heart is supposed to be.
Is a coffee stain.
The circle of the cup
not complete,
(one can imagine it though).
Last night,
As the caffeine kicked in.
And drove grit out of my eyes,
chasing sleep.
I gnawed at it in vain.
And gave up.
Coffee stains of these kinds
Never go.
They just linger in the blood.
And run in streams of thoughts.
Like abandoned children.
Coffee stains
of some fresh brew
strong.
Yet not there.
