7.1
June 20, 2020

I Miss You. I wish my Coffee Cup were your Lips.

I heard the birds this morning while I was sipping my coffee and daydreaming about you.

I wish my lips rested on yours instead of the rim of my mug.

I made my coffee extra dark today to match your eyes—I stared at it for a long time. I held the mug and imagined your warmth while I curled up in your oversized T-shirt. The handle is the shape of half a heart. I pretended it’s your hand and held on tightly.

I snagged your T-shirt on my earring, and now a hole has formed over my heart. I wish I could patch it, but I don’t know how. I guess I’ll have to let it be.

It’s been an hour now, and my coffee is starting to cool. I feel your presence slipping away. I could dump out what is left, but I don’t want to. Maybe I’ll microwave my cup so I can hold on to you just a little bit longer.

I need to take a shower, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to start another day without you. I think I’ll microwave my cup one more time and savor you a bit more.

My coffee has changed colors, and it’s starting to taste burnt—at least it’s warm again.

I slowly sip what is left and put my hand over the hole that’s forming, so I don’t notice it. I feel my bare skin beneath my hand and see the gap has grown. My hand no longer covers it, and I begin to cry.

I put my lips to the rim of my mug and take another sip, but I can’t. It’s my last sip. I decide to microwave it one last time.

A few more hours have gone by. I haven’t showered.

Maybe I’ll do it tomorrow. For now, I want to hold your hand.

Read 10 Comments and Reply
X

Read 10 comments and reply

Top Contributors Latest

Rebecca Donaldson  |  Contribution: 93,055

author: Rebecca Donaldson

Image: Henri Georges Meunier/Wikimedia Commons

Editor: Kate Force