In the hush of a day without edges,
I steep in the gentle green of routine.
Buldak simmers, a spicy whisper
From my brother's careful hands.
No words needed, just the quiet
Understanding of shared hunger.
Pages turn, stories settle
Like dust motes in afternoon light.
"Before the Coffee Gets Cold"---
A title that lingers, long after
The last drop is savored.
In the kitchen, we move
In synchronicity, soap bubbles
Rising and falling like breath.
This is the dance of family,
Unspoken, unrehearsed.
The day, a matcha latte:
Smooth, comforting, a blend
of bitter and sweet.
I sip slowly, savoring
The peace in simplicity.
Time doesn't always need to travel,
I realize, as steam rises
From my cup.
It's enough to be here,
Present in the warmth of now.
In this moment, I am
Neither past nor future,
Just beautifully, quietly alive
In the space between
What was and what will be.
********.*******
About the Creator
Winry
I write whatever is on my mind!
Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts5 days ago in Longevity
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