I used to want to sip your tea.
Put my mouth where yours had been,
And swallow the heat,
It falls into my body.
Warming me up
Just like you did.
You were comfort,
Soft to touch,
Making me feel not so alone.
The cups we used were not chipped.
They were smooth and cold on our lips.
Clean and calming.
I felt full of the tea.
It was good, I felt good- happy.
But the tea got cold.
I didn’t want it anymore.
I saw things I didn’t want too.
I listened to the voices.
I dropped the teacups all over the floor.
Thousands of splitters spinning on the floor
Sliding across the cold ground and hiding in corners with the dust.
Even if we could find the pieces to put them back together,
The tea would be cold.
I don’t like cold tea.