Vent Poems

12im sorry

I'm sorry
I didn't mean to spill
But at night when my tea is filled high
And my cup is more fragile than before
When your fingers poke my sides
Asking for tea
I'm more gullible than usual
And lean just enough
For all of it to go pouring out
The hot tea pools on the table
And spills on you
You got burned
And I feel as though
It's all my fault
But it's probably not
After all you did poke me
But in the end I'm responsible