Philogeon (philogeon) wrote in gridpaperpoems,
Philogeon
philogeon
gridpaperpoems

The Coffee Story

Of course it seems only fair that my first post be for The Coffee Story... Thus:
*err... please don't expect it to be in any way edited*


She turned to me and asked what I knew of love. From the tone in her voice I decided this was going to be one of those questions that was not going to lead somewhere I wanted to go. However, knowing her like I did, I also knew that to not answer it would mean days of pouting, though she would never admit to ever having pouted. So I told her that I had very little experience in that area, and asked what brought up such a question. She told me that she wished to know me better. That she felt that though we seemed to spend day and night together, we never really talked anymore. Maybe it was because I was a man that it never really seemed a problem to me, but I did notice that as our social life filled we had less time, or desire, to talk.

Continuing on she said that she missed the days when we lived far apart. Never wanting to go back to not ever seeing me, but to the time where all we could do was talk. I thought back to the days now long past, when we would open our hearts on the strangest of topics. Spending long hours together, pouring out our thoughts on topics ranging from the meaning of life to the long term effects of black holes. This still left me slightly confused about what this had to do with what I knew of love. So I asked her, and she told me that it had been on her mind of late. And, I asked.

And, she said, "I was hoping you would be able to help me. I see now that I was foolish to think that you would ever talk to me." She turned swiftly on her heel and started to leave the room. I didn't even notice as my hand darted to the back of her arm, grabbing her and gently spinning her around. I told her she was not foolish at all, and that I too, missed our talks. As much as I really did miss those talks, that was not the reason I said it. As I believe all men know, there is a thing about a woman that can alter a man's will power, despite his feeble attempts to avoid surrendering himself.

That is why I told her that I missed our talks, and for this reason something inside of me felt dirty. As if I had lied. I asked her what sort of information she was looking for. She told me she didn't really know, but was hoping for some understanding of how she was feeling. So I started on my few experiences in love. I told her how; when I was young I had my choice of girls. Girls would invite me up for coffee at 2 am to chat. Sometimes I thought that there was a chance I would get the coffee. Mostly, I knew if I went for a cup I would get something that rhymes with it. She gave me a look that said she wanted to know if I had ever gone up. No, I said in a sort of half sigh. I sighed not because I thought I had made the wrong decision by not sleeping with them, but that I was still a man with strong desires. I told her how the times had changed. How I was now wanted by none. How strange it was that now I would go up if asked, and no one would ever ask me. I don't know if it is simply for that reason, but I explained to her that it was always my belief that God had a sense of humor. People tell me all the time that they don't understand how life could have such twists and turns. I point out to them that if they look at this from a bird's eye view it is rather funny. They seldom agree that day, but days, weeks, maybe years later, they always look back and tell me how silly it all was. Hours passed, and many stories were told. Maybe it was the lateness, but as the nig ht went on I felt more and more convinced that I loved this girl. I don't quite know what it was; I had known her for years and never thought about it until tonight. Why was it that we were friends, no best friends, and never even kissed? I thought that I was being silly, that it was a silly lustful thought. You're just horny, and we can deal with that later I thought to myself. My mind fought back at that thought, pointing out that I had no real feelings of lust, no impure thoughts. Only that I was falling for someone I had always loved, but never thought to love her. I noticed how her eyes almost shimmered in the dim light of my living room. It amazed me how I wanted to test if her face felt as soft as it then looked to me. Looking at her clothe s, nothing more than a simple pair of jeans and a loose black tee-shirt, I was struck by the way that they hinted at her shape. A shape that I had not thought about since the first day I saw her.

I looked closer, noting the way that the shirt flowed over her breast, and how the jeans almost slid down her rear. I fought off these thoughts, not wanting to risk our relationship over a single nights lust. No, that’s not t rue. It was because I was afraid. Afraid that she did not want me. I had no idea what would happen if I told her, especially now. If I only had some sign that she felt for me too. More stories, things I had almost forgotten about came to me as if they happened yesterday. What time was it. I could not see a clock. It felt like it was about 3 or so, but I couldn't really tell. I looked over at her and saw her face. She was not what you would call the most attractive woman, but to me she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. There was something about her. Her smile was radiant and her eyes had a kind of sparkle to them. But it was her inner beauty that drew me closer to her. I had to face the fact that I was falling for her. That I had already fallen for her, but had never been able to admit it to myself. She told me that it seemed late. A look of understanding appeared on her face for a moment. A playful, yet seductive look overwhelmed my senses. Her eyes locked onto mine as she said, "you look like you could use a cup of coffee."


This is the first post, because it was the first time I wrote just to write. I did it after reading http://plagiarist.com/poetry/87/
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Comments allowed for members only

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic
  • 0 comments