The One Thing I Surrender To.

I wake up along with the sun, but just before the craving kicks in. An ache quietly arrives behind my eyes; there's only one thing I know that can fix it. It brews with a light hiss, like a stealthy cat with one promise. The grinder growls its fierce tune before dawn. The first scent sharp, bitter, dark, holy– rises with passion in the kitchen air. I tell myself it’s all about the taste. The ritual. The chilled liquid goes against my teeth. The comfort of holding something steady when the world moves too fast. But in reality, it’s the way that my thoughts fit in the correct place, like placing the last piece of a puzzle. The first sip– I smile happily. The second sip– I think I am capable of achieving anything that flies at me. The third sip– Should I start something new? Or at least answer some emails. My friends tell me, “Maybe you should cut back…” I nod with consideration while I am pouring myself another cup. Coffee isnt a drink, It's my friendly habit hidden in its shining condensation. It's my other half in the morning, a small, iced, brown, radiant glass, guiding me through the tiring days of deadlines and worrying. Yes, I see it; my hands can shake from time to time. Yes, I know; my heart taps in Morse code. But in the end, it brews the sound of ambition. So pour it dark, strong, hot, or iced. Let the steam rise like a surrendering flag. It might be the one thing I surrender to, But, I’m not admitting I'm addicted. I'm just devoted.