My coffee tastes best
when blackest the hue is
his gaze feels warm
when dilated the pupil is
monsoon feels blue when
darkest the cloud is
I Like my coffee black
the bitter the better
I like my problems raw
the bitter the better
I love it when things go wrong
a hinge of thrill fills my eyes
the eyes widen
when broken is the ice
I love the messy room
where the footprints of bipolar lies
I love the days when no moon stars fly
I love the half burnt notes covered in dust ink
I love when there is hope at just the brink
I love the way I live with a sprinkle of ash pink in it.
P.S i wrote this a while back and honestly i didn't like it , the poem felt souless to me, now yesterday i read it again while going through my study materials as i wrote this in between one of the pages of my notes and it suddenly felt better than before so decided that maybe i should post it here. so here we are! do tell me what do you think about this one :)
About the Creator
ishitaaa
hey! this is an amateur content writer trying her best to keep up with her writings, i sometimes write poems and would love to share them.
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 drafts6 days ago in Longevity
Comments (1)
Thanks for sharing, I really enjoyed this!