The bottom of my coffee cup is the best conversationalist.
It doesn't judge me or tell me how to feel.
Instead it just is; stained with the arms of its contents it kindly sits.
At the bottom of my coffee cup are my hopes and dreams.
Gently collected there in a pool of cream.
They swirl as I tilt it for a better view; it's soft swish of liquid; singing to my ears.
At the bottom of my cup is my sadness. Shown to me in such a peculiar way.
It tells me to be. In all of my pain and sorrow.
Because I am beautiful in every melody my soul sings; deep and slow the pain moves within.
The bottom of my coffee cup is the kindest of things; it always is there when I need it to be.
Offering solace where none else can be found.
Whenever the need arises, it is there to be in my hands; warm to the touch and full of life.
The bottom of my coffee cup is where my heart sits beating.
A rhythm pure and slow, quietly waiting.
Safe it sits; protecting me with its porcelain frame, so breakable yet so strong.
The bottom of my coffee cup is something I have grown to loath.
Reminding me how alone I truly am; a single bird in the sky.
But if the bottom of my coffee cup remindes me how melancholy my soul cries.
Then my Master is the coffee in my cup. Keeping my heart warm and protected. It's thick liquid filling my every vein..
Covering the blank bottom and mixing in with my hopes and dreams. Separate and alone no longer.
For when my coffee cup of filled with that of my Master. I am a masterpiece once more.
-Pandaish
