He tasted like coffee that morning. That taste is branded into my mind so deep I’m both afraid and excited that it will never fade. Coffee. He brought a whole new sensation to the taste of coffee. I like coffee. I’ve found a new love for it after those last few minutes I spent with him. I’ve always been someone who drinks a cup every morning, but now sometimes I debate on making a pot just for the smell that makes me reminisce about him. He had a long drive, though. He had to go after only a few minutes that morning; it was for the best. I have a pot of coffee on now actually. If I close my eyes I can taste him just one more time.
“One more time…” That ended up being something I told myself very often over the last few months. “Just one more time… That’s it.” It was never just once more, though. It was addicting. I can’t quite explain it but it was addicting. I was addicted.
It was the way he looked at me that started it all. He had that look that burned right through my soul. It wasn’t a bad burn. It was a refreshing burn that felt so incredibly revitalizing that it consumed my entire body and I soon found myself flying higher and higher through the clouds and sweet scenery of heaven, even though it’ll send me to hell. I loved that look.
I miss my fragile little hands trying to match up with his big, rough hands. They were so strong and stable. They made me feel safe even when I knew it was always risky. The bad kind of risky. I loved those hands.
He came back that morning “just one more time” except this was the very last time I used that phrase. It ended with a groggy sunrise kiss that tasted like coffee. He had to hit the road; he had a long drive. His rough beard brushed my face, as it always did. I’ve never been one for facial hair but I loved that beard. I now understand the old saying of “we always want what we can’t have”. I need something that I can’t have. That secret coffee kiss and all of the other secrets hidden before that will be something I cherish forever. I replay those memories over in my head, though my mouth will forever be closed tight about them. It’s over now, though. Some things really aren’t meant to last forever. That little spark of lust lit a wildfire that had to be put out too soon. I find myself craving him from time to time. It was addicting. I was addicted. Along with the good memories, I’ll always be cursed with the final memory of his taillights actually leaving forever. It’s painful. It’s a heartache I didn’t expect to have that just keeps lingering. I would give anything for “just one more time” or for one more coffee flavored kiss on that damned morning he had to leave. Maybe I should cut out caffeine…