I started drinking coffee, not because I enjoyed the taste, or even the burst of energy it gave me late at night, but simply because you loved it. Always seen with that coffee stained smile.
I hated it though.
I had hated its bitter taste that no amount of sugar or cream could sweeten.
I had hated the way it scorched my mouth and throat as I slowly gulped down the warm liquid.
But I drank it. Every morning and night, tricking my mind into thinking I liked it.
You soon moved on from my try-to-hard self, and left me all alone, with a coffee stained frown.
I threw the mug on the ground, shattering it in a million pieces. I threw out that coffee pot and those silly little brown beans. I accepted the fact that I hated coffee, it was for the better though. I was much more a tea person.