Every morning grew with an unsatisfied slumber. Eyes too strained from the hatred of discontinued sleep, mouth dry from the unconscious sounds they emit when darkness caress my skin. A long walk to the kitchen counter, I rushed to the heaven-made machine that is silently waiting for me on the counter top.
It laid still as I approached it. Reaching the brown powder that’s caged securely in.I scooped a fair amount as I suddenly inhaled the aroma that can lull you to eternal comfort. What more is the taste?
Expertly, I pushed the ever familiar button that will start the lown experience. A bit of energy left in me, yet the machine never stops oppressing of what’s left.
My Nirvana came in in a plain white mug. Slowly to the rim but never failing. Still steaming from its pressing process as hot water was mixed.
How lovely is it that one menacing beverage can make me forget my flaws from yesterday. The bitterness that surrounds my tongue would wash away profanities that this mouth and mind expresses. Your wonders will last through me for an entire day. As cream covers your bitter taste.