Cup of Tea

When I first wrote this poem, it wasn’t about anybody in particular. It was assignment for my creative writing class, and I just wrote what came to me. It was about a relationship that at first seemed beautiful, perfect even. Then everything started falling apart. Months after I wrote this poem, I began relating to it. Now, this piece is a reminder to me of someone I wish I never met.

I always thought you were my cup of tea.

All along,

that’s how I pictured you.

In my favorite mug

warm and cozy,

drawing me in.

Your scent drifts through my house,

and it lingers

so everything smells

like spices and comfort and you.

I take you in my hands

You’re burning to the touch

which I choose to ignore

but I can not just

ignore when you scorch

my throat and burn my tongue

I can hardly even taste

you anymore, because all I

can taste is pain

but I keep taking sips until

my mouth is numb and

the mug is empty

and there’s glass on the floor,


similar to my heart.

And now the tea is gone,

so I have finally rid of you.


I’ve always preferred coffee, anyway.

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