I started being reminded of people who had once played crucial roles in my life by the simplest of things. Of them, I found drinks to be the most consistent reminders across all of the people that took flight far away from me. This poem came to me at 2 AM when I couldn’t sleep because the words were writing themselves.
How easily your words were to swallow
Reminded me of coffee,
Although sometimes, with my impatience,
I would try to taste you too quickly
And be left with a burnt throat,
You were my morning fix,
And I guess that’s why when I tried to quit you,
The headaches were enough to drive me back.
But you left.
And the jitters come as I try to clench my coffee mug,
Wondering why it won’t suffice,
Why it doesn’t taste the same.
So I went to whiskey, I hear that has some health benefits.
The way it smelled of regrets and empty promises lured me in,
I guess you could say I have a type.
There was no hangover until there was
And the emptiness inside was filled with the liquid I poured down my throat,
An effect your kiss used to have on me.
Eventually, though, my tolerance kicked in and that was an expensive habit.
I tried green tea, but the mint was similar to your breath on my neck
And the shivers my spine so easily displayed when you whispered
Sweet nothings in my ear.
I hear poets drink tea and stare out of windows while they write,
But I can’t find any inspiration
And seem to be writing incoherent sentences on paper.
Perhaps I will try water, but I’m afraid the purity of it will remind me of you.
I know with one sip, I will want to drown myself in it,
Until, like you, it leaves me in a drought.
Featured image via Sandra Molina on Unsplash
