The Second Mug Went Cold
I still fill two mugs every night. The second one went cold and I couldn't bring myself to pour it out.
i don't know when i started doing it again. the kettle clicks off and my hand just goes for two mugs. the blue one for me, the chipped one for you, even though you took yours when you left. it's a new chip now, a different mug pretending to be the old one. i poured both anyway. stood there. one steaming, one just there.
you used to hold yours without opening your eyes. now i drink mine slow so the other one stays warm a little longer in my hands when i finally pick it up. it's 2:40 and the second one's gone cold and i didn't pour it out, i just looked at it for a while. last week your sister texted asking if i was sleeping and i said yeah, mostly. that lie was easy. this is the part i can't text anyone. the worst of you being gone isn't the bed, it's that i still make enough coffee for the person who used to laugh at how bad i make it. and tonight, first time, i didn't mind that it was bad. i think that means something. i'm just not ready for it to.
Did this one stay with you?
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