" The pain I should have felt but didn't, was echoed in you.

the tears I should have cried but didn't, ran down you're checks.

The promises I should have kept but didn't, broke you. I am sorry"

You asked me what I felt for you and the silence echoed my answer. I hoped you would listen to the unwritten words painted on my face and see that when you touched me, I felt nothing. Not a single butterfly fluttered its wings against my chest.

i am sorry.

I hope you're heart heals,

You're tears dry and

Your love for another, blooms.

- The one who broke your heart

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My morning coffee, black and bitter but still sweet. Something I crave from morning break.

An instant potion of happiness that gets me through bleak autumn days.

Every morning, I sit and sip on my coffee,
my eyes become less drowsy and begin to come to life. I can feel it flowing down my throat, joining the rivers of my body. I can feel it awaken the sleeping ghost inside of me, and I can feel the warmth it brings on cold nordic mornings. Coffee has always been apart of my family and will continue to be. The crop was farmed on the mountainous hills of old Ethiopia and used in traditional coffee ceremonies when mama was a child. Family and friends would gather to see the bean transform from green to black. As the bean roasted, the aroma would fill up the room, and soon everyone would indulge in a sacred cup of "Bona." Every time I drink a sip of coffee, it reminds me of where I am from- it reminds me of home.



"Born from the sand and the soil.

The winter and the snow

Born with the pride of a lion and curls of iron."

A blog about my journey, identity, the people I love and everything that I am and want to be.

- Indigenous_You