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ESPRESSO POETRY

Coffee-powered musings of a Romanian living in London

Flat White


Ever feel like you are see-through?

Like all your dreams and mistakes

are on display,

ready to be operated on

by the bystanders who need to live vicariously.

Ever feel like a ghost who

lost its sheet on this rainy London street

famous for housing another ghost

of a brilliant detective

who actually never walked on this street at all.

You'd like for him to be true, though.

To hire him to look for your sheet

and for any remaining bit of privacy

you might have.



Iced Latte.


All this - look around.

You're a walking embodiment of

solipsism.

That's just a nicer way to put it,

the world revolving around you.

You feel like a perfect circle

inside of a bigger circle,

never touching.

Like you're always on the brink of a discovery

or of a destruction

or even both, who knows which is which.

Sometimes you just have to hold on, they say,

but other times

you really just want to be the one

people hold on to.





Updated: Oct 8, 2019

Flat white.


It got to a point where symbols were meaningless.

Like you never had a pain of your own

Harder to explain.

You told them you were fine

You told them you can cross the road.

But here you are, a deer in the headlights,

A ghost on the street, cars

Roaming by you,

Passing through you,

Your transparency hurting

More than any other real wound.

You told them you can do this,

But in the same time

You had no idea what this is

Or what to do means. You told them you've lived through harder times

But you have never ever been

So hardened.


Drop me a line. Will get back to you after I've had my coffee.

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