Brewed: A Poem
I think of you every morning as my coffee brews,
As an unwanted stream of recollection ensues,
I remember all those downtown coffee shops we lived in,
And the faces of bored locals when they glanced at our affection,
Their jealousy echoed louder than their pointless chatter,
As we dove into each other's eyes, before the moment shattered,
But somehow all went wrong and I'm left alone in the present,
To sip on home-brewed coffee and inhale the scent of regret.
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