—the caffeine still does its job, but the energy doesn’t reach joy anymore
This one’s about that hum: the small, unspoken guilt that rides the pulse between sips.
You drank too fast, the cup half full,
the heart too quick, the morning dull.
The rush was there, that blessed hum,
that false conviction, something’s done.
But nothing’s done, not really done.
The chores persist, the ghosts just yawn.
The caffeine climbs, then curls in place,
a restless hand against your face.
You think of calls you meant to make,
of words withheld for comfort’s sake,
of laughter dulled by too much thought,
the small red debts the years forgot.
The mug is empty, breath still sharp.
You chase the edge, the fleeting spark.
And as it fades, you pour once more,
not to remember, but ignore.
📜 Caffeine and Quiet Regret – The Recipe
Ingredients:
- 2 tbsp Dark Roast (burnt at the edges, like memory)
- 1 shot Espresso (excessive, but earned)
- 1 ounce Still Water (for mercy)
Instructions:
Brew strong enough to wake your doubt. Add nothing to disguise the taste. Sip between unfinished thoughts. When the caffeine meets the conscience, call it even, then pour again.