Your personality is like a good cuppa tea.
Wowee you’re just exactly who I want to sit with me.
You somehow have this way of giving people an ability to be free
Just like different types of teas you’re able to help with different kinds of needs.
Like the way a piping hot chamomile calms and comforts
The way a spicy chai can gives me boldness
Green tea energizes and inspires
and the way peach can bring me to the home that is out of physical reach
You are my cup of tea
The friend I want to keep with me.

Standing there in a big crowd.
I have whisky in my hand, a friend by my side,
and couples surrounding me every way I look.

There's something so romantic about a girl standing alone with a guitar singing out her heartbreak. Her loneliness envelopes me and I think of your face, and all of a sudden I feel alone in a crowd.

The last thing I want is to feel this unfufilled desire for your affection so I say **** that and take another sip.

But the fact is that it is three songs later and I haven't really been listening but instead experiencing. How can one girl with a guitar singing out sad songs have such an affect on me, whisky in hand, a friend by my side, and couples surrounding me every way I look.

He would sit at his desk
Wrinkled skin, white hair
eyes fluttering as he dozed in and out.

Russian at his core, like ***** on the rocks everyday for 50 years, like spokoynoy nochi and a kiss before bed. His voice, rough and grouchy like sandpaper, yet sometimes sentimental and soft as he would tell of his youth spent meeting movie stars or of his trips across the world. He always enamored me with his stories which he told with a glimmer in his eye and a chuckle in his throat.

I couldn't always please him with my unruly hair, quirky fashion sense, and lackluster cooking, but he always chose to love me and show that he enjoyed my presence.

As a child I pretended to take care of him with my doctor kit and on that day I wished for it to just be a child's game once again.  I wished that I could kiss his boo boos and wipe them away as if it were magic.

I wish I could sit next to him and ask him advice one more time. I wish I could hear more stories of his glory days.

But I have ***** on the rocks, and spokoynoy nochi running through my head before bed to remember him by.