—the coffee that turned, and the feeling that followed
It hit your tongue, a twist, a bite,
A citrus ache, a bitter spite.
The beans went wrong, the water too,
The cup accused the hand, not you.
You grimaced once, you tried again,
The taste like rust, regret, and rain.
You swirled the spoon, you forced a grin,
Pretending rot could pass as sin.
But sour spreads, it won’t forgive,
A brew that stings, yet won’t let live.
You drained it slow, you paid the toll,
A sour sip that spoiled the soul.
No sugar hides what’s gone astray.
You drink the flaw. You drink decay.
📜 Sour Sip – The Recipe
Ingredients:
- 2 tbsp Old Ground Coffee (oxidized guilt)
- 8 oz Water (too hot, too hasty)
- Optional: One apology, unaccepted
- Garnish: None, this flavor doesn’t forgive
Instructions:
Brew coffee past its prime. Forget the grind size, ignore the bloom. Pour into a cup, taste the wrongness, pretend it’s fine. Add sugar if you must—it won’t help. Serve with denial.