You can't pour from an empty cup,
so when you held out yours
dry as could be, I poured from mine
without a second thought
And though my cup was drained,
I called it half-full
because seeing you fulfilled
with my joy was enough
Until suddenly, I had nothing left to give,
so I handed you the cup instead
and watched you run off to someone else
when I couldn't keep up
Now my cup looks so pretty
in her hands as it overflows from
the supply you had all along
and hid so well
All I can do is try and catch
leftover spilling over the brim
but even that is starting
to slip through my fingers too
YOU ARE READING
Poetry I'll Never Let Anyone Read
PoetryA random collection of poetry I swore I'd never let anyone read.