I like milk tea
like I like my men

Oolong—
deeply rooted in
his beliefs, strong,
slightly bitter— rarely
compromising

Milk and sugar—
delicate, able to bend
rules without losing
integrity, sweet yet
lasting, like the
aftertaste I’ve
grown to love

Cold—
ice cold, only to
complement the
warmth I’ve been
saving for a lone soul

Pearls—
sinkers to my tea,
unflavored yet unyielding.
the anchor of any man
willing to stay with me—
this I have yet to see.