A Cup Left Out
The last drink together before he left me
A Cup Left Out
I find the cup on the table.
Cold tea rests in the bottom.
A pale ring circles the rim.
The air around it feels still.
Was it morning when it was left?
Was there a voice, a laugh, a silence?
The tea has cooled into memory.
It tastes of something unfinished.
I lift it, smell the faint sweetness.
Sugar dissolved, milk turned grey.
It feels like the ghost of a moment.
Like a hand once here, now gone.
Do cups remember those who hold them?
Do they long for the warmth of touch?
Or are they only vessels, waiting,
empty and patient, never asking?
I place it back where it was.
Quietly, as though silence might break.
The cup waits again, as all cups do.
For lips that may never return.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
Keep reading
More stories from Marie381Uk and writers in Poets and other communities.
10 Times Rotten Tomatoes and I Disagreed
***Disclaimer*** I will be ranking these movies in the following manner: The greater the divide between Rotten Tomatoes and I, the higher up on the list (and I am referring to the critic's score, not the audience score). I will also show Rotten Tomatoes' score on each one in addition to my score. I am curious to know what everyone thinks, please let me know in the comments below!
By Madison "Maddy" Newton3 days ago in Geeks
Comments (2)
Very nice, Marie. Loved the way you built all the feeling into the "view of the cup", well done.
This is a poem that will have us all wondering if cups have a memory of all uses them. Good job.