The Truth Left Unspoken

Coffee

I hated the smell of coffee.
But you always stunk of it.

Even after years from when the sun had last shone,
It was only that cologne that I smelt as you neared me,

"It's easy," I'd said "slap him hard and run"

It was easy, because even after years the brim of salt and water still threatened to leak from my eyes;
No amount of desperate consolation could stop my destined tears to flow at the first sight of him.

But I held them in, only for a second longer.

You smiled down at me,
Even through the rigged walls that had separated us,
Even through my rimmed vision that shook your image,

Your smile made it through.

I did the easiest thing,
I raised my hand and swung it across your face.

You looked back at me, confusion was evident;

I replaced it with surprise,
As I raised my toes and slammed my lips against yours.

I cupped your cheek, which was still burning from my slap.
You were still at first, but I pressed my lips harder against yours.

Your hands went on my waist pulling me to your own body,
And mine in your hair, making sure nothing separated us.

Your mouth still stunk of that horrid coffee,

I hated the taste of coffee.
But I missed it.

-written for you

:/:/:/
This is probably my longest one I've written so far. And probably the one that is farthest from the rhythm of a poem. In a sense I'm basically narrating short stories, in a more discreet manner, but I really don't mind.

I genuinely relate to this.

Tell me if you relate ((even if it's in your own perspective and emotional way))