Micro Poetry – 1 

You leave me clues to decipher in the last lines of your poetries.

It’s a fun game.

But I don’t want to be played.

We sip black coffee masking the truth in this bitter liquid.

Knowing that one day we wouldn’t have to.

One day, we will spill the truth and it won’t hurt.

Everything is real.

But it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way, anymore.

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