things i never said...

dear coffee,

you said you write love letters. i realize that i have written many in my lifetime, but none in at least seven years.

all of my best things were about you. it seems unfair, because i didn't even spend time with you after i wrote them.

things that still bother me:

i wrote down things that you said to me, so i know i wasn't making up everything. i could never figure out why your words were so fleeting. or why you kissed so many girls, none of which were me.

i could never figure out why you didn't call me. i could never figure out why i had to come to you, not the other way around.

i guess i never got over not kissing you. and i'd do it now in a heartbeat given the right time, place, and circumstance. which wouldn't be much, in case you're wondering.

but this isn't feeling like much of a love letter.

i always said too much, and it kept me from getting to know you. all i wanted was to be with you and i still do.

you just said things that i feel were a bit of a setup to tangle me up when it came to you. you shared your excitement with me so many times, and we had so much fun together, just being ourselves. and then it was gone. and you moved on. but in a way i never did. i never became un-hung up on you.

i never felt as natural a fit as when i curled up with you.

i'm glad that i met you during the best year of my life. but it makes me sad to think that that was the best year of my life. because that was thirteen years ago. i long for those days when life was so simple and fun and pure and easy.

that summer and the fall that followed defined me as a person, and you played a large role in that, even before we were friends. i felt like i had everything in common with you and spent the few years after you trying to find someone so much like me. but i never found anyone like you. and i got tired of waiting. and tired of looking. and i thought that my life now was the best i could do without you.

i feel like we never got the timing right. and if i could go back and undo any one thing with you, it would be the day that i didn't go to get your vespa with you. and here i sit all this time later, just wishing that i could go back and change that one thing. and something tells me that you don't even remember that day at all...

i crave this (spoken from a place with my head on your chest)

that being said, this is how i want to end this note:

you were the one that got away.

maybe someday you will come back.

tea