She came in my life like morning coffee;

Strong enough to make me ponder upon my hangover;
And sweet enough to make me want her.

In the nadir of my despair, I rubbed my eyes to clear my vision;
But steam from scorching cup blurred my glasses.

My sense of smell was not compromised yet,
Like the fresh rain which leaves away petrichor;
The transient steam had left its scintillating aroma.

I could not help but resist grabbing the cup with both hands;
Only to find myself repelled from the beauty I was exposed to.
For she was not the liquor I was destroying myself with;
But she was the caramel nectar that was to be handled with care.

Like a long day in the month of June, I waited to grip the handle;
She had eventually accepted me in drizzles of July, or so it seemed.

I was kissing the rim gently and my glasses were still clean;
I could not resist to gulp it fast like an amateur.

She understood that class was not my thing;
And soon the mug was empty, she never wanted a fling.

Not only was I out of coffee, but now I could not go back to my liquor;
And now I realised that more sugar lay at the bottom of the mug.