If I hold this mug of tea tight enough, it mimics your touch and the feel of your warm skin against mine. When I press it to my lips and drink it deep I can remember me breathing in the kisses and lies you poured down my throat and I'll not sip gently I will gulp it all down in the hopes that it could somehow keep you in my mouth. But I hold onto this mug that is warm like you, and I hold on for too long and find it burns my skin and my throat and tongue. It blisters my fingers and boils my lips when I try to touch it, when I try to love it. Just like you did.