i've told my boyfriend at least twice now that he reminds me of mocha (yes the coffee) but i just realised i don't think i've ever truly elaborated on that? so it just has the knowledge that to me he's mocha, but it doesn't know Why. i think that's quite silly of me. that being said, take a poem. it's not my best work, but its raw & real & that's all that matters to me
i remember the day i asked for your coffee order.
i was certain you could hear it from just a few feet away.
i don’t know if you did, and i don’t know if i necessarily want to know;
i feel as though i’d die from embarrassment if you told me you did hear it.
i’m not sure it really matters,
i just know i felt like i was dying from the inside,
and i was sure you could tell —
regardless, i remember you love mocha.
i remember the pleasant surprise on your face when i asked what coffee you like;
the same smile overtook your face when i told you i’d made a mocha, on a casual weekday,
i call you mocha in my head, sometimes (most of the time, really).
in the moments where i feel the most warm,
most comfortable, most at peace with myself (and the world) —
you’re the coffee i drink when i crave comfort.
i don’t know if i’ll ever call you this bitter yet sweet drink to your face,
but in my head, in my heart, in my poetry,