Love Like Coffee

A love that's meant to be savored

I started writing this poem back in October of last year before stopping after struggling with describing what it would be like to love me. Two months later I found myself in a position where I had no choice but to put myself first. The past 4.5 to 5 months have given me the opportunity to do nothing but pour into myself. To nurture and love myself. To believe in myself. To fall in love with myself.

The 180 my life took is nothing short of a miracle and Divine Timing. From having no idea what was next, to surrendering completely and letting go of all the fears, doubts, and expectations, to trusting the process and letting go of perceptions and shifting my perspective. To being in awe of the realization that every single event big and small laid the foundation for today. To experiencing non performative happiness, to manifesting my freedom. It wasn’t until I experienced all of this that I finally had the words to describe what it’s like to truly love me. Because now, I can write from experience.

Love Like Coffee

If I had to describe what loving me is like,
I’d describe it as a cup of coffee
An acquired taste that isn’t for everybody,
but everyone is curious about the experience.
I’m not talking about the kind that’s made at the chain store coffee places.
I’m talking small independent coffee shop,
an artisan cafe.
The kind you stumble upon by accident
and end up treating yourself to on purpose.
Homegrown coffee beans.
Handpicked and harvested.
Only grown in an unheard of place
that allows the plant to grow freely.
Roasted and grounded in house
with a scent that lingers.

Aromatic and alluring.
The kind you take your time with,
and reminisce about when life was simple.

Intense and robust.
The kind where you savor every sip.
No need to add any sweetener or creamer to this,
but you’re always free to do as you please.

Some days I’m that bold ass dark roast.
Deep and bittersweet.
The kind that keeps you curious and on your feet.
I might be a lil intense at the first sip.
And the more you drink,
you realize how much you’ve grown to like it.

Some days I’m a medium roast,
warm and a little nutty.
The kind that wraps its arms around you each time
as if you’ll never again have this experience
because everyday brings something new and different.

Some days I’m a light roast.
Bright, tangy, and fruity.
The kind whose smile greets you before words do.
The kind with a familiar and addicting taste.
On occasion it might keep you up at night.
On the days you go without you feel its absence,
and still there’s no codependency with this coffee
allowing you to always be free.

It’s the kind you always pour into one specific mug
because it holds exactly the amount you need.
Cozy with a touch of comfort.
The kind that’s on your mind
when you first open your eyes.
It allows you to miss it
until your lips meet the rim again.

This coffee starts off piping hot.
So you have to handle it with care.
If you rush, you’ll end up burning yourself,
Unable to appreciate its vastness of flavors.
This is the type that requires patience.
One that requires you to ground yourself first
and learn its temperament
before it cools to the perfect temperature.
Allowing you to mindfully sip and indulge,
being present until the last drop.