He was a little cup filled with fuming hot chocolate,
That I found on a freezing winter morning,
He warmed my lips and my hands,
as his steamy breath mingled with mine,
He was cherished and desired,
He helped with the cold,
But soon he became empty,hollow, I'd consumed all he was ready to give me,
His breath and eyes became as cold as the wind outside.
He pulled himself out of my arms,
The light snowflakes now Turning into a hailstorm.
His presence though now no more there,
The memories of him refuse to degrade, decompose and set me free.
YOU ARE READING
Of Battered Hearts & Bitter Coffee
PoetryEchoes from the murky depths of a dark, burning soul.
