A coffee breath

Though I wish I could

And would and will

Without help or hand

Unfold myself before another

And yet still

With movement I find

That my heart is not free

To speak without a jolt or two

A smoking gun of espresso shot

Into veins of purple and of blue

Surely this is my start

And my coffee heart beats

Most quickly when

I am approaching

Done

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Haiku of hopes

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My type feels