The coffee is sitting on the back of my tongue as if to remind me how your lips tasted. The bitter taste finds a way to stick onto my teeth reminding me of when we used to sit at this coffee shop and talk about infinity. We would drink until we could feel the caffeine pulse through our heartbeats, making our eyes blood shot. The rush made you hyper and you would begin to talk in fast confessions spilling from your tongue. My brain could never keep up with the story of your day falling from your mouth like a waterfall. I would kiss your lips softly; slow down babe, I can’t keep up when you talk like that. You would blush and smile at me shyly. The red of your embarrassed cheeks would spread to your ears and you would try to slow your sentences down.
That’s how our life went most of the time, fast forward and full of coffee beans. When the caffeine entered your system I couldn’t keep up. One day you began to talk to fast and found someone who could listen faster. Now all I have is the taste of your coffee lips lingering on my tastebuds, call it nostalgia.
I feel like he wrote this about me.
