THE BIRTH-ACHE

I cherish my mornings
Marked with
The scent of coffee seeds
Burnt till they perish

Permanent attempt for a poem
When eye's not even sure
To be awake
And mentioned coffee
Doesn't seem to make it anymore

Words linger underneath the skin
They own
Me and my tongue

Touched by the Art
Me- scared
Me- scarred
Now...
Am I healed or gone?

Did I swallow those poems?
How many of them still roam
As a chronic pain throughout my bones?

The birth-ache...

And I think my mornings merge
Into one
Almighty Coffee Break...