<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=578613" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Taste of Cold Dregs</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">(a whisper reaches your ear: <br>‘nobody likes the taste of cold dregs…’<br>and you attach no meaning to it) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">you linger reposed beneath the sinking light<br>the soft yellow glow that rightfully<br>belongs<br>to yesterday</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and your face reflects<br>in the thin sheet of glass<br>behind which you remain<br>separate<br>from everybody you’ve met<br>and everybody<br>you’ve yet to meet</div><div style="margin:10px 0">your fingertips resonate with your<br>identity<br>your mind resonates with<br>nothing<br>(it seems you‘ve misplaced your identity) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">emptiness<br>and a pretentious cup of tea<br>is all you’re living for</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and you are defined only<br>by tea leaves and a herbal scent<br>upon your breath</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(and you’ve never seen the future <br>in your tea leaves…<br>you’ve never even looked) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">your imprints defile<br>a cracked cup<br>splattered with fading <br>flowers</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and as the world passes by<br>you remain on your stool<br>(reflecting the soft yellow light) <br>sipping and sipping and sipping<br>your life away<br>In tiny portions</div><div style="margin:10px 0">leaving only the fingerprints on your cup<br>and the cold, black dregs<br>(which taste bitter on your tongue) <br>to suggest<br>that you were ever there…</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Abby+Koning">Abby Koning</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=578613" data-title="The Taste of Cold Dregs de Abby Koning" data-description="(a whisper reaches your ear: ‘nobody likes the taste of cold dregs…’ and you attach no meaning to it) you linger reposed beneath the sinking light the soft yellow glow that rightfully belongs to yesterday and your face reflects in the th..."></div> </div> </div>

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