2/10/12

“You can tell a lot about a person by the way they like their coffee.”

I like mine unsweetened and black.
So, that makes me think of you and your blank stare when I made jokes you didn’t want to understand.
Occasionally, I take mine sweetened by hazelnut and light by soy
And this reminds me of you, too.
The way once in a while I’d say something right and you might actually crack a smile
And it felt like a reward
That would make my whole day,
But someone or something always ruins my hazelnut caffeine high
And that also, reminds me of you
Because we didn’t have a day of rest
And you had a lust problem.

I have a hard time swallowing coffee because I never liked the taste,
I’m just addicted to that feeling it gives me and it seems to give me a purpose to be awake
And that reminds me of the way I never liked you, but I was addicted to the pain you caused me because it gave me a purpose to be alive. I would have settled for any emotion
(ironically, you killed me, my soul, as addictions do).

When I don’t have my coffee I’m cranky because of my caffeine deprivation
And it reminds me of all the days you denied me of love or even acknowledgement
And how in nearly three years I could never go more than a couple days without you— and I never had to.

And sometimes I’m reminded of you because I catch you swimming in my coffee
Saying things I used to like
And smiling with your smile that I once didn’t admire, but grew to love
And then I remember that I’m not that person that liked those things that you said with your smile that I loved that I no longer do.

Finally, the only appealing thing about my coffee is its deep brown hue like your uneven skin.
I can remember tasting the darker portion of your birthmarks,
Finding a bit of sweet in everything that was bitter about you.

I find it funny that I can find my deepest memories of you in a single cup.