Tea And CoffeeA Story by Katie MarieI remember once, we were sitting there; you had tea, I had coffee. And I spoke for ages about how I loved the bitter taste of my coffee, and I watched as your nose scrunched into a bunch. “I like tea,” you said, “tea with honey,” but that’s all you said. “I like both,” I said, “but there’s a difference. I like coffee in the morning, and when I’m tired. I like the way it tastes with a cigarette, but tea. Tea is for the afternoons when the sun is bright, I like to sit and read with a cup of tea. Coffee is for writing, to keep me awake”. And you just looked at me and said, “you romanticize everything when you talk, it’s like you want everything to sound important. I bet you’d even romanticize the things you hate”. I thought about it for a moment, and looked at the white of the milk mix with the dirty brown of the coffee. “Yes” I said, still looking down. “I probably would”. “Why?” you asked, and I don’t think I’d ever seen you think so hard, or look at me quite so deeply. “Because, even if I don’t like something, someone does, and it’s beautiful to them”. “You speak like you write,” you sipped your tea, and mixed in another spot of honey. “I write about you”. “Next time, can you do me a favour and write about the things you hate? I want to read it”. And we both knew, I’d do anything for you, so when we got home, and you got ready for work, I sat at my computer with another cup of coffee, and wrote this down for you: I told you, I always write about you, but I kind of hate that. I hate that you’re always on my mind, even when I try so hard to think about something else. I think about the blank page in front of me, and all the many things I could write about. All the topics, all the genres, but I always come back to you. And I hate that. I don’t hate you, I just hate how I’m so in love with you. I love you, but I hate the way your toes curl when you don’t like what’s going on around you. Whether it’s something on television, or something someone’s saying to you. I love you, but I hate the cracks on your heels. I love you, but I hate the way the way the scar on your ankle turns so purple when your cold. I love you, but I hate how everyone checks out your calves when you ride your bike to the market down the street. I love you, but I hate your nobly knees and how they crack whenever you crouch. I love you, but I hate how hairy your thighs are, and when we sit, all I want to do is touch them. I love you, and there’s nothing wrong with that area there. I love you, but I hate that tattoo on your lower back from when you were drunk and impressionable. I love you, but I hate the way you can dislocate your shoulder blade so easily. I love you, but I hate how nice you look in a singlet, and everybody knows it too. They are meant for me, to hold me up, so you can have me anywhere, and I can have you. I love you, but I hate how dry your weenus is, and how far your veins stick from your skin. I love you, but I hate how strong you are when your hands ball into a fist, and I hate how when we’re only playing around, you hit me harder than I could ever hit you. I love you, but I hate the paint caked under your fingernails, the dirt too. I love you, but I hate that you can’t be shirtless all the time, and I can’t just touch your chest whenever I feel like it. I love you, but I hate that you won’t let me use the groove of your collarbones as bowls for movie snacks. I love you, but I hate that vein you get in your neck when you chew. I love you, but I hate that little beard you grew because it made my face really itchy, and I hate how funny you thought that was. I love you, but there’s not a single thing I hate about how you bite your lip when you drive, or how you roll your tongue when you paint. I love how you kiss, and how you smile, and I love how you think your front teeth are really big, but they’re actually really cute. But I hate some of the things you say, and how your lips are sometimes cracked. I love you, but I hate that one hair I always see in your nose. I love you, but I hate the way your eyes sometimes look so sad. I love you, but I hate the way your eyebrows always look better than mine. I love you, but I hate the way your hair looks when it starts to grow, and when you wake up, there’s always that one bit that stands up. I love you, but I kind of hate you too. Because I’ve never loved anyone so much as I love you, and I never, not for a minute, thought I could. Because I didn’t much like people, and instead, I liked being alone. I hate you because you know that, you know why I do the things I do, and why I feel what I feel. You know all of that. I hate my family, you know that. I hate my friends, but you knew that too. But I love you. I really do. Thank you for loving me too. © 2013 Katie MarieReviews
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1 Review Added on October 21, 2013 Last Updated on October 21, 2013 Tags: love, breakfast, coffee, boy, girl, cynecism, poem, short story, young, everything, candles, beach, cigarettes AuthorKatie MarieACT, ACT, AustraliaAboutI’m Katie. I hate my name, it sounds like the name of a toothless hillbilly. I’m eighteen. I’m kind of an a*****e because I love too much and care about very little. I honestly have .. more..Writing
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