top of page
SKRAP PHY HAVEN
We met up once in a restaurant one fateful morning. It was a special date. The name of the restaurant spun something fancy. What what was it? On the top of my tongue. Rubiaceae, no it was known as Waking Ethiopia. More like flavor text for a night club with an open pub.But the way my heart bobbled inside my chest. It sure felt like it.
As she stood there, early to her throne and seat. Slowly approaching with a conjoining pocket sized smirk, denying any nervousness that had kept me from wavering until this point as he chalked it up to something of a disturbance in the room. It was hot and humid wile she thought the same thing too but that were soon forgotten in the face of her allure. The name was Arabica, remembering a fairly flat and elongated sinus groove
earring that I could hold and waft in front of my face. Her personality was so sweet and round, with a slight and pleasant acidity. Her skin lay bare with a thin bitterness. You could float it easily enough above the palm of your hand. Her skin were a pores of rich, creamy surface layers that contained a light reddish brown hue, painted with tiger-like stripes.
I claimed" What is your secret. I can feel her own words boastfully countering, " My roots are high quality and firmly well established." I'm plenty sure this is textbook arrogance although it does not feel the same.
Looking down, a cyndrical bowlish visage she had expressed fumed such individuality. Her sincere posture had made my nervousness spike to a certain degree.Beginning to flex my mind while overshadowing the tabletop with her silence.This hardly moistened my pride as other crowds of people devotedly stared, turning back around to finish their dishes.
This made me feel like an ignoramus. But before words assembled through my upper and lower jaw we parted ways before one another had time to gasp breadth.
This feeling I sipped with just a hint of savoriness, was real. I knew
bottom of page