Cup of Joe.

You are the single brown ring on my white, wooden table, leaving a mark on pure innocence, and making sure everyone can see it.
I would like to hide this scar, but something tells me it would make sense for you to leave more stains.

It burns when you touch my lips and your warmth seeps through my teeth and into my whole body, but only momentarily.
Then all that is left is the bitter taste in my mouth.

You give me the shakes because I don’t know how to control my body, nor do I have the ability to control my mind.
I’m filled with many emotions, but I don’t know what to feel until I hit the dreaded caffeine crash.

Send my regards to your addicting, black poison.

And you know what’s funny?

I don’t even drink coffee.

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