Tied To a Memory.

I sat back in my chair, as it groaned under me. A chilly morning fog, silently rolling, tumbling, outside. My hands, cold to the bone, cupped around my coffee cup, begging for it’s warmth. I watched as the steam carried the smell through the room.

Mercilessly, my mind ran straight to you. A morning, living in a memory I thought had long since past. Unpleasant as it was, I followed.

You were crawling back into bed with me, as someone I once knew. You smelled of coffee dark roast and maple. A smell you wore so well. And I could feel the coldness of your skin on mine. And of that cold skin, I wanted more.

It’s a quick glimpse, but enough to sew you into my thoughts when caught. And as each day goes by, the glimpse gets shorter and shorter. And some days it goes, just as fast as it comes. A leaf in the wind with nothing more to offer.

I find it absurd, to start my every morning off with a cup of coffee tied to the memory of you. Even if it is fewer and far between now. I’m not sorry that time has done this to us. I’m not sorry time has slowly let you fade. I’m grateful.


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