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tea & coffee
there isn’t enough coffee
in this pot anymore
and I’ve searched all the empty spaces in me
but I’m still not quite sure
where all this tired came from
all I do is dream of running
pulse in my ears like a silent drum
while I sit, still, stirring
cold tea in a ceramic mug
not feeling the scrape
tarnished spoons and my pale pink lungs that tug
at the metallic tape
you used
to try, to save me.
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