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“Coffee stains”
The coffee stained the paper.
The caffeine helps so i can
stay up later.
My mind is kind of racing but not like running,
more like pacing.
Each thought a flutter,
a whisper in the dark as it echoes in the silence and leaves a fleeting mark.
Ideas collide, tangling and intertwining
in this restless, sleepless bind.
The night is art, painted on a canvas with time,
where dreams and reality blur and rhyme.
In the quiet,
when there is the stillness my heart finds a kind of fullness.
The coffee stained the paper,
leaving traces of the night
in the morning's gentle glow.
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