Coffee

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"But she's somewhere prevailing her life onto someone else while I desist, and realize that I'm in love with someone I can have." -The TV, 'Coffee'.

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I wonder why his eyes glitter.

He looks at me like I could be taken a sip. But if I was that, I would taste too bitter and strong to his liking.

I wouldn't allow him to take a sip of me.

Because I'm afraid of what he'd think of me. I'm afraid of what I'd become. Will my eyes stay hazel bright? Will my voice stay like an earworm? I'm afraid that he'll walk away because of how bitter I am to his liking.

He is my favourite coffee. Is that selfish? I like the scent on his skin as it seeps through his shirt. I like the colour of his eyes, day and night. I like how he sounds like when he speaks or sings. I like how his name tastes on my tongue. I like him as he is- like no one else does and ever will.

But I can't be with him. I can't let him taste my bitterness. I can't let him go knowing he has found out who I truly am. I can't let him know my biggest flaw.

"You're bitterly sweet."

His hand falls after he ran his fingers through his unkempt dark hair, and I wonder why his eyes glitter. I wonder why they still sparkle after knowing how bitter I am; how unpleasant I can be; how flawed.

He looks so warm and I want him so bad. Should I take another sip? But I'm afraid he'd become toxic to me. So I watch as his eyes fixed on mine, his light unfaltering, his gaze unfluctuating.

And then I understand. After so long, I fathom the reason why he stayed all this while, right here on his chesterfield as I study the colours on the ceiling.

He has been the sweeter coffee. I have been bitter. He pours himself into me as he takes a sip with glitters in his eyes, gentleness in his touch.

I was his favourite coffee.

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A/n: here's to one of my favorite bands!

[21/03/17]

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