Ten years I have been having an illicit affair with you. Over and over I have said that I was breaking up with you, but just when I think that I am over you my resistance weakens and I long for another sip of you. The next thing I know I am like an alcoholic longing for its next drink. First, I think that I will only drink from your lips once or twice a week and the next thing I know I have to have you every day.
You are no good for me. You bring out the worst in me. I am lonely and irritable without you. Your smell seeps into my very pores leaving your aroma flashing through my mind sometimes at the most inopportune times. Exhausted I leap into your arms once more and you rush through my veins and move through me like my very blood. Your aroma lingers on. It hangs in the air, even when I am through with you.
I have sworn you off over and over, but the memory of your golden color wakens me once more to the power you hold over me. I see it rush to the surface as I stir cream and watch it swirl onto your surface and penetrate creating a golden sundrenched fluidity to match your tantalizing aroma. As your golden liquidness rolls over my lips, my senses all intermingle into solid agreement of my need for you, and I know I will never be free.
Until a friend introduces me to an upgraded model of you………………..decaffeinated and processed in the purest waters. He is missing your bite and acidity and doesn’t cling to me. He is not demanding to turn me into anything. As I pour cream onto its surface and watch it penetrate, I realize that he has your color and aroma, but he leaves me peaceful and brings out the best from me. I am not left irritable and longing, but content and peaceful. He has taste.