Your cup lays there,
unwashed, untouched.

One spot is darker,
alive,
and it touched your lips.

One,
two,
a hundred times

you took,
a hundred sips.

Again,
and again,
touched those lips

I wish,
I could've kissed those lips.

So give me your soul
drip by drip,

Just one,
two,
a hundred sips.