This gourmet aroma.
Sumatra blend coffee.
This steam, this heat,
This memory.
That day with the polka dot cooking smock.
That morning, her apron was the only thing she wore.
That sunrise, we made love, and hardly ate our breakfast.
I can now feel the blood rushing through my veins,
Begging me for something stimulating,
Something to make me feel as if I’m with her again.
That’s why I drink this coffee, every morning:
To feel, to taste, to remember,
The time that I took for granted.
To remember the mistake I’ll never make again.