ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
I’m waiting for my macchiato in a sidewalk coffee shop, where chairs and tables are laid out on walkways and corridors. They’re inviting, offering the promise of rest after a long day trudging through the murky sea of faces. That’s probably why this shop is so popular.
My macchiato has arrived. It’s small, much smaller than what Starbucks has led me to expect. It’s a testament to what kind of coffee shop this is - a real coffee shop, untainted by consumer capitalism. There are three tiny leaves made of milk froth in my coffee; it’s a novel experience.
I take a sip and try my hardest not to grimace. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it’s bitter. It’s the kind of bitter that makes you wonder why anyone would choose to be so cruel. The kind of bitter that makes you wonder what had possessed you to pay $10 for a compact cup of abject bitterness, and if you’d known it was going to be this bitter you probably would have walked away. You still can. It’s not too late to walk away.
But the chair is comfortable, and so I swallow my regrets, sip my tiny macchiato, and I stay.
My macchiato has arrived. It’s small, much smaller than what Starbucks has led me to expect. It’s a testament to what kind of coffee shop this is - a real coffee shop, untainted by consumer capitalism. There are three tiny leaves made of milk froth in my coffee; it’s a novel experience.
I take a sip and try my hardest not to grimace. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it’s bitter. It’s the kind of bitter that makes you wonder why anyone would choose to be so cruel. The kind of bitter that makes you wonder what had possessed you to pay $10 for a compact cup of abject bitterness, and if you’d known it was going to be this bitter you probably would have walked away. You still can. It’s not too late to walk away.
But the chair is comfortable, and so I swallow my regrets, sip my tiny macchiato, and I stay.
Literature
Love
Love
Flower, flower
Sweet, red and mine
You make my world spin
You make my words rhyme
Blossom, blossom
How pretty you are
The te
Literature
Cadence
it was the softest idea that occurred to me,
while tracing the fresh memory of
your fingers on my skin,
calming me, like the sun going down on the wet, green earth;
this was the tenderness in your face as my tired tears
wet the cushions.
I was wholly encased in your warmth.
there I was slowly suspended, embryonic;
not still, but in a state of cadence,
returning to myself - harmonic
and returning.
you've seen me,
I arrive back to you every morning at the end of my long journeys,
the night still fresh in my cold hair
and the smell of quiet lingering between my fingers;
all the stars still clinging to my clothes and
I arrive at your body. th
Literature
Not my Valentine
A day for lovers, a day for her
Standing in the shadows I can see
A night for two, and a night with you
Cherishing now and what is to be...
A candle light dinner, made just for two
Walking, under the light of the moon
Hand in hand, and heart to heart
Back to the room, oh not too soon
Looking in your eyes, your lips collide
The mood is set, a flower on the bed
Soft light, music, and her skin of silk
A tender sweet kiss placed on lips of red
Her dress cascades softly to the floor
The air is filled with the scent of desire
Red lace and curves she's a lovely goddess
Taken with a lust that burns like a fire
Her night is so perfect, ren
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
I'm wide awake now.
That was perhaps the most bitter cup of coffee I've ever had in my life. Obviously I've never had any gourmet coffee before, you can tell by my not knowing how tiny a macchiato is. I wrote four of these vignettes last weekend while out with the family, which just goes to show how random inspiration can be.
I suppose you could call this a metaphor for life - that point where you know it's making you hurt and you have to change, but it's too comfortable now and you just can't bring yourself to change where or what you are. It's about living with regrets and not walking away while you can. It's about having invested too much in something to the point where you can no longer abandon it, even though you know you should.
That's what I felt while forcing that tiny cup of macchiato down my throat. That shit literally made me feel ill.
Feedback is love.
That was perhaps the most bitter cup of coffee I've ever had in my life. Obviously I've never had any gourmet coffee before, you can tell by my not knowing how tiny a macchiato is. I wrote four of these vignettes last weekend while out with the family, which just goes to show how random inspiration can be.
I suppose you could call this a metaphor for life - that point where you know it's making you hurt and you have to change, but it's too comfortable now and you just can't bring yourself to change where or what you are. It's about living with regrets and not walking away while you can. It's about having invested too much in something to the point where you can no longer abandon it, even though you know you should.
That's what I felt while forcing that tiny cup of macchiato down my throat. That shit literally made me feel ill.
Feedback is love.
© 2015 - 2024 Konnono
Comments2
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
I fav'd.
I should leave a comment.
This made me smile.
I should leave a comment.
This made me smile.