Today as I passed by that tiny cafe,
I reluctantly peeked inside through the glass window,
it was as peaceful as it used to be,
a small space, nestled away from the bustling sound of the city.
For the first time in years I walked in,
knowing that I won’t find you behind the counter,
brewing and working your magic into the cup,
with a smile that lit up your eyes.
Pushing the door hesitantly, I stepped in,
the aroma of freshly ground coffee masked my senses,
the dark decoction stains on the table reminisced our story.
I sat there with my fingers curled around my hot cup,
slowing sipping the dark brew,
staring into nothingness,
and letting the bitter taste take over me,
just then, my eyes began to feel moist,
and I realized why coming back here was not meant to be,
because baby, you always smelled like coffee.