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spilled coffee

is the last memory i have

of you.

you were rushing to leave

for your 9-5 job,

telling me that you’ll see me later.

did you plan that lie?

or did something truly happen between 9 and 5?

you never missed your morning coffee,

so you ran back inside our flat.

i knew you would return for the caffeine,

so i was waiting at the door with it.

we collided, and black coffee spilled onto the floor.

you kissed me on the cheek,

telling me that it’s okay.

and then you were gone.

another lie?

because if everything was okay, how could you have left me like this?

i cleaned up the mess,

and took off for work.

everything was normal.

you called me at my lunch break,

telling me that you loved me.

did you even love me at all?

or are you still whispering apologies to me?

you never came home.

i waited for the longest time,

and went to bed.

in the morning,

friends and family called,

giving condolences.

i searched the news,

and saw that you had passed.

suicide?

were there signs?

accident?

how did it happen?

murder?

who killed him?

thousands of questions lie in my mind,

screaming to be answered.

only you hold the answers

and you are forever gone.

if only we could go back to the time

when spilled coffee was our only worry.