My alarm goes off in obnoxious fashion, per usual. It’s the break of dawn and my bed is warm, and the world seems cold. I rub my eyes and exhale a most boisterous sigh, swinging my legs to the side of the bed, then rise. Slowly I gain my balance, and ascend to my full height.
Now come the mandatory groans and stretches. I have yet to see one in person, but I imagine I look oddly similar to a jolly green giant with poor eyesight, hobbling around in the dark.
I currently have one thing on my mind, and my persistence for this is not a force to be reckoned with. (I mean, besides, I’m still in giant mode, and who wants to mess with a giant?)
She appears in my mind like clockwork each day, the moment I regain consciousness in the morning. No matter how groggy or awake my state of being is, even the mere thought of her is invigorating. I can taste her on my lips, and I can recall each blissful moment I’ve ever spent with her. One might find our relations monotonous, but despite the repetition, each time is equally as revitalizing.
There is something about her smooth, tawny complexion that keeps me coming back for more.
I am a fiend.
No matter the setting or circumstance, the moments we share come full circle, and are always akin.
She presents herself in many forms, and with each, I am intrigued. Some days she likes to dress up, decorating her surface with colors, shapes and textures. Some days, she wears sleeves, while others she remains bare.
Her mood is a temperature, and she can be hot or cold. Regardless, I drown myself in her existence.
I have her in different spots and settings, alone or with company. I do not care if they watch and stare, for I know they envy the way I hold her tight, and press my lips against her.
Every morning when I wake, I crave her. I do not stop until my fixation is fixed.
She is my mistress, and I shall tell the whole world:
“Oh coffee, I am so mad for you. Be mine, forever.”
Now come the mandatory groans and stretches. I have yet to see one in person, but I imagine I look oddly similar to a jolly green giant with poor eyesight, hobbling around in the dark.
I currently have one thing on my mind, and my persistence for this is not a force to be reckoned with. (I mean, besides, I’m still in giant mode, and who wants to mess with a giant?)
She appears in my mind like clockwork each day, the moment I regain consciousness in the morning. No matter how groggy or awake my state of being is, even the mere thought of her is invigorating. I can taste her on my lips, and I can recall each blissful moment I’ve ever spent with her. One might find our relations monotonous, but despite the repetition, each time is equally as revitalizing.
There is something about her smooth, tawny complexion that keeps me coming back for more.
I am a fiend.
No matter the setting or circumstance, the moments we share come full circle, and are always akin.
She presents herself in many forms, and with each, I am intrigued. Some days she likes to dress up, decorating her surface with colors, shapes and textures. Some days, she wears sleeves, while others she remains bare.
Her mood is a temperature, and she can be hot or cold. Regardless, I drown myself in her existence.
I have her in different spots and settings, alone or with company. I do not care if they watch and stare, for I know they envy the way I hold her tight, and press my lips against her.
Every morning when I wake, I crave her. I do not stop until my fixation is fixed.
She is my mistress, and I shall tell the whole world:
“Oh coffee, I am so mad for you. Be mine, forever.”