Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2014
My cup sat alone on a self
Not that special to anyone else
Just a little white cup with gold trim
My cup
It was the cup I used to drink tea in before she died
Now it sat on the self
The only cup of it’s kind amongst the matching china
My cup is isolated
It gets pushed to the back
And now it’s collecting dust
Quinn
Written by
Quinn  22/F/Purgatory
(22/F/Purgatory)   
265
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems