Teatime

I felt like smooth sweet tea
poured into brittle porcelain
it was a sense of, I would say
a guilty, blue satisfaction-
of being consumed by others
I’ll be gone, as the empty cup
hits the table, ‘ting!’ as the
sound strikes the white noise
the windows to the noisy world
all gone, shut again, no more
to my eyes, to my ears, no more
I have become the bitter stain
left on white beautiful porcelain
easy to spot, and wipe the last of me
as I sink into the terrible drain
I shall never be seen again
this time, this is the last change
life is lost to peace, that ends pain

-Kaya

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