—a reheated reminder that yesterday never really goes away, it just tastes worse
You brewed it fresh, or so you lied,
But something flat still lurked inside.
The scent was faint, the body weak,
A hollow roast that couldn’t speak.
It hit your tongue like cardboard sin,
A taste of where you’ve already been.
You told yourself, it’s good enough,
But bitterness grows sharp when rough.
The oils were gone, the bloom was dead,
Just echoes of what once was fed.
You drained it slow, your stomach turned,
A lesson stale, already learned.
Not all grounds age. Some just decay.
And yesterday won’t wash away.
📜 Stale Grounds – The Recipe
Ingredients:
- 2 tbsp Yesterday’s Coffee Grounds (tired, lifeless, bitter)
- 10 oz Water (fresh, wasted on the past)
- Garnish: None—decay doesn’t need decoration
Instructions:
Brew using old grounds you should have thrown away. Serve in the same mug from yesterday, still ringed at the lip. Sip until the regret settles in again.