Your kiss was so real in my dream
it felt raw and nicotine
a bit of honey and a bit of smoke
as a perfect blend of milk and caffeine
yet it remained unfinished
you know like
half sunset view
half-moon night
and maybe
uneaten pizza slices
or refused macaroons.


By Shreya Sharma

I read poems. Sometimes I write poems. And when I am doing nothing, I am sipping coffee.


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