Spilled coffee stains like forgotten regrets

Spilled coffee stains like forgotten regrets,

the warmth on my skin, a solace it begets.

A dark, bitter comfort, swirling in steam,

sipping my mornings, caught up in a dream.

More than a drink, it’s my anchor, my balm,

a kiss of routine, in its rich, earthy calm.

I breathe in the scent, as silence descends,

this cup holds my secrets, my means to amend.