I’m like a cup of coffee. Dark. bitter. Real.
There are days, when nothing seems to be working. Days, darker than the nights. Coffee darker than usual. People, whom I’m poured out to, would sense me differently. A taste a time. I might delight some with just the aroma while I might taste bitter to most.
At times, I go through the wintery evenings, when you completely forget me and move on to someone else, more spicy, more gingery, more relishing. But soon, you realise that the 2AMs and the starry nights, are best accompanied by me.
I’ve my good days of sunshine too, when you wake up and start your day off with me and her. Then there are times when you realise that sugarcoating might have turned me sweeter, but somewhere, you had lost the real essence.
Worst still, there would come a day when I’m filled up up to the brim, and I know I’ll refrain to pour myself out to me. Because if I do, you get a stain, I still make my way.