The Fight Inside

It doesn't take much.  I open to door to the cabinet and the faint scent meets me.  No more is needed.  A single whiff can bring the tease of a taste memory on my tongue.  

Longing takes control.
 

I don’t just want it – I need it.

My brain tries to caution me, but reason won’t work.  Far too quickly, I’m too far gone.  The reward easily seems worth the possible costs.

Before I know it, I’m in the kitchen, placing a filter, and pouring the water.  A scoop of chocolate cream is spooned into a cup.  Coconut milk is warmed along with a half teaspoon of organic sugar before a splash of coconut extract is added.  Next comes that magical moment when I break the seal of the jar that holds my aromatic treasure.  The grounds are measured and put in the machine.  In place of the pot, my prepared cup sits on the warming plate waiting for the stream of coffee to fill it. 

The first sip is divine.  A sensuous awakening spreads throughout my body.  Once again, I understand why this bean nectar is loved by so many.  

It doesn't last.  

Today, I remember why coffee is wrong for me.  Today my head weeps in agony.   The punishment is almost too much to bear.  Pain scours away at the memory of the pleasure until it fades away.  The world has become heavy and dull.  Love has sharpened into hate. 

The only way to prevent this torture from visiting again is to purge coffee from my life.  
I'm going to do it this time!  Today, I will rid my home of those hurtful grounds.  

There is only one problem.  
I know that as soon as I open the cabinet where the coffee is stored, the aroma will take over again.