A web of cracks across my skin,
A chip where once a rose had been.
I held warm tea, a friend so true,
Now whispers of the past peek through.
My handle, smooth from countless sips,
Remembers laughter on your lips.
Conversations steamed and swirled,
Secrets shared, a world unfurled.
Though some may see a broken thing,
I hold the joy that memories bring.
The sunlit mornings, evenings deep,
Each sip a promise we would keep.
So fill me not with water's flow,
But with the warmth of years ago.
For though I'm flawed, I'm cherished still,
A cracked teacup, on memory's hill.
About the Creator
Buzu
Verses sculpted from the heart, I'm a poet navigating emotions with ink-stained fingertips. Crafting tales that dance between reality and dreams, my words paint a symphony of feelings in the canvas of life. 📜✨ #PoetLife #Wordsmith
Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts6 days ago in Longevity
Comments (2)
I like the chip where a rose once was as well as the ending. Sweet poem. Have you tried not rhyming? That could be an exciting new frontier. Subscribing ;)
This is very well-crafted! Bravo! Not only is the content excellent, but the rhythm is flawless.