I say I am losing my appetite because of the heat of the summer, but it is the heat of his skin that makes any food secondary to the taste of him. Ever since he kissed me, I have only drunk coffee. It is only substance my lovesick stomach can hold down. I take it black as the night we love so dearly and wallow in its bitterness, hoping to drown out the softness he set in my stomach. For it seems dangerous to fall in love with him, to feel him in the bottom of my belly and sense him in the echo of my mouth whenever he is not close to me. I drink coffee as black as the night as if it could save me. I drink coffee as black as night as if it could make him into an acquaintance again. But we both knew that sacred second right before our lips touched was far too similar to the storm riveted sea his large eyes resemble, and there is no way to turn back the time we erased with our mouths. In his arms, there is nothing, and there is everything. In his gaze, there is a galaxy of “please don’t go”. In his mouth, the stars explode at last as messengers to this unspoken utterance. In the reflection of that coffee as black as night, I can look at myself through the darkness and almost convince myself he is someone I can simply let go. But when my hands shake and my chest aches to the point of virtual agony in his absence, I know the warmth of his skin cannot be replicated by any force this natural universe could muster- and the third empty coffee cup of the day doesn’t begin to come close to the fulfillment only he can bring to me.
After a month and a half, I finally got to see my boyfriend, who flew across the country to visit. We’ve gone on lots of adventures, one of which included visiting Pop’s Diner from Riverdale! He kind of reminded me of Jughead, lol.