You Were My Coffee

You were my coffee–
some say a luxury, and for me
a necessity.

You were my coffee,
and you were how I wanted it to be:
sometimes sweet,
sometimes smooth,
sometimes dark,
sometimes strong.

You were my coffee:
you kept me all night long,
you made my heart race,
you kept me warm,
you gave me energy,
you filled my life with love and meaning.

You were my coffee:
I craved for you in times of bliss;
I craved for you in times of wretch.
You were my coffee–
something I longed for every day.
You were something I wanted,
something I needed.

You were my coffee–
something I cannot say no to.
Something I needed to survive
the lonely, dragging night shifts.

You were my coffee–
yours is a lingering flavor,
like a taste of blood in my mouth.
Yours is a scent that rejuvenates my spirit,
a force so strong that stirs my awake.
Yours is a power that gives and takes life,
like blood of a unicorn–
it gives me immortality,
but prevents me from living life to the fullest.
And that’s how I found out that
despite my love for coffee,
it is actually bad for me.


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