I
haven't had a cup of tea since I was love sick
with the lemon drops of your scent and
the honey sweet memories of your laugh
during the brisk endeavours of autumn.

I
watched my cup fill to the rim
with steaming hot water and imagined it
burning away your residue;
I dipped the tea leaves twice,
then thrice,
as if to stain the walls an entirely different
colour than the amateur mosaic of
starry night you had painted for me before.

I
drank you up like it were my first gulp of liquid
since desert droughts had occupied my mind.
And with one last sigh after the last drop,
you were gone - no longer lingering
on the surface of my cup, nor the tips of my lips.
Thus, instantly opening my pores in relief
and brightening my eyes with contentment
because little did I know that while

you were the poison, you were somehow also the cure.

gd