Spill the Beans

Whenever I think about you, I start talking to my coffee mug as it is a gateway to my amalgamated emotions whenever something pulls me down. The froth over my cup of coffee feels dead inside when the bubbles leave them midway and settle down a bit. It frightens me a lot whether you will end up being that superficial and leave my hands during the high tides and lofty rides. I feel sorry for those coffee beans which have travelled so far just to immerse me in its nutty and smoky aroma coupled with its inherent bitterness. I wonder whether our toxic togetherness will end up creating enough bitter memories to sustain for a lifetime. As and when I reach the bottom of my cup of cappuccino, I realise that a milky lump of sugar has cascaded along the walls and precipitated itself for quite some time. I start thinking about the juncture of the tunnel when my soul was searching for you but you already were on the other side beyond my horizon.
P.S – My coffee mug never betrays me in those disconsolate dark phases of my life.

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