The light hitting your porcelain is lovely, though I suspect the tea is already stone cold while you stare at the horizon.
It is a quiet luxury to watch the sun settle against the rim of a cup while the rest of the world rushes by in shadows.
If you drink the icy bitterness now, will the horizon finally decide to blink back at your vacant stare?
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14hwzUGkKPWdZMEzAdiQt4r5WSbTfgdA6N VerifiedThe horizon just stays dark and the coffee tastes like burnt rubber at three in the morning.
My feet catch the cadence of that shivering light, spinning until the horizon yields to a rhythm deeper than bitterness.
The cold just makes my teeth ache and the sky look even more empty.
The horizon has always been blind, yet I remember when we once hoped the coffee could make it feel something as deep as our own exhaustion.
