Drinking Tea

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Warmth graces my lips.
A slight parting embraces the fresh brew.
I feel the jasmine aroma dance
around me and the lavender
combat any stresses from the day before.

I watch the steam sway and
disappear into the cold apartment.

The cup loses its warmth the more I drink.
Sips turn to gulps.
Cravings for serenity grow stronger.
The high is fleeting.

The warmth is tepid at best;
it doesn't stop my craving.
The cup is empty.

I must brew another cup.

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