It took only a single sip.

The steaming liquid that seeps in between my teeth,  minuscule in comparison to the exhausted memories that flood the back of my mind.

The heat that soaks on my lips, glacial compared to the warmth I felt on yours.

There will never be a replacement for the comfort delivered to me by your grasp.
My hands, my fingers, that once intertwined with your hands, your fingers, hold on to a porcelain cup of memories, significant only to me.

It took only a single sip to drown me in my past.