I hold my favorite teacup
The one that not so long ago
Yet so long ago
He drank from.
I gave it to him because
I could trust him with my life
And that's how much trust
One needs
From me
To drink from it's gold-rimmed
Porcelain beauty.

"This is good."
Were his words
As he sipped
The sweetspicy chai
While I did the same from a mug
I did not hold quite so fondly.
He understood
At least
A bit
How important it was
That he held the cup.

I'd prefer that this
Could happen again
That I could make more
Chai
And we could sit at the
Blackwhite table and
Smile and laugh because
That would be good.
Better than to
Never see that smile again
And better than
Holding back from what I feel
Even if that doesn't last.

This morning I sip my coffee
From my favorite teacup
And I know that I
Will not deny
Myself
Any measure of love,
No matter how fleeting
I will not say no
Should he give me his cup.