When I think of you I think of coffee;
I drink coffee more often than necessary,
It tends to be my poison of choice.
I am more likely to jump at the chance to "go get a coffee" then to "go have a drink" at the end of a long day.
Coffee has become such a personal, irreplaceable part of me that if you cut me open I'd probably bleed espresso.
My wardrobe consists of black, white and shades of latte, I've even taken to buying anything, no matter how useless the item, so long as it signifies cappuccinos.
I choose colours to paint with and words to write with that evoke the warmth of holding a mug between my hands.
Even if I manage to avoid drinking it for days I cannot forget the smell, the taste, it lingers on my clothes and my skin and my tongue, like your name is a brown ring stain on the corner of the book of my life.
I hear the word "coffee" and your name shortly follows in my mind, rebounding off the walls of my heart causing an echo to bounce off my ribs again and again.
I refuse to believe that I am addicted to caffeine, but your name still makes my blood race just a little faster.
God knows, I see you standing there and it's like sitting me in a cafe alone after decades of withdrawals and placing a large steaming mug of latte made of the rarest, richest beans directly in front of me and then asking me, telling me, commanding me not to drink it.
My friends and family are so used to it at this point that now they just laugh;
"Won't you ever stop drinking coffee?"
"Have you even tried tea?"
"Wear something other than brown for a change"
"You've had enough cups today already"
"Does caffeine even have an effect on you anymore?"
"Doesn't it keep you up at night?"
"Why don't you just stop drinking it if all it does is make you think of him?"
"You don't need coffee, you just want coffee"
I know, I know I don't need coffee!
It was never a matter of need, except maybe in the lowest moments when all I needed was to hold someone-something in my hands, just to feel the warmth.
I don't need coffee, but dear god
it makes my world so much better.
CZYTASZ
neon starlight
Poezjathe post-midnight musings of a young modern romantic. *Disclaimer: the current cover art is not my own, the imagery was found on Pinterest and I was unable to find the original owner. While I did the titles, all rights go to the original artist.
