Tea isn't right without the milk.
Like I am never whole when you are not here.
Added sugar for the sweetness, for you're so sweet to me... and stir a tornado like our pasts demand it to be felt.
Leave the teabag in for the strength that we design, and let the steam fill our icy hearts.
And move it to your seat....
But the handle cracks, and the ocean pours again. Burning what we once desired. There's nothing left to do but curse at the gods and make our tea again.
YOU ARE READING
Spoken Secrets (Various Poems and Short Stories)
PoetryA collection of poems written by myself. A mix of everything and dedicated to what I really feel inside but never really speak of.
