Americano

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I like it black and cold,

quiet as a thought I never told,

Maybe that’s how I like it the most,

just like an arabica roast.


Sharp on the tongue, soft in the soul,

a kind of silence that makes me whole,

no need for sweetness, no need to pretend,

it stays honest from start to end.


In every sip, a story untold,

of nights that linger, of hearts that hold,

a little bitter, a little free

exactly how it feels to be me.

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