Tea is a colorful drink,
It comes in many different shades.
White Tea,
Sweet and delicate, brewed from the fragrant flowers of the tea tree.
Black Tea,
Strong and simple, a firm hand to lift you up from bed.
Green Tea,
Earthy and natural, weather or not the leaves or fired or steamed.
The Tea from my Grandmother's ***,
Beautiful and delicate, imprinting upon you like fresh snow on the roads of Boston.

Fine china is pressed to my lips.
offering a moment of sweet bliss,
as soothing warmth envelopes me
and my troubles start to fade.

Slowly sipping my cup of tea,
I find all is as it should be,
and clarity slowly emerges
putting my mind at ease.

I enjoy this relaxing remedy,
in this comforting serenity,
with a smile and a sigh
I find Positivi-tea.

©️Lizzie Bevis

Sought without treacle
Added forces, that knew me
Actual lip for a liberty to still
The oncoming voice of reality, which to live is anarchy

But sakes, with resolves ice?
Brazen futures of dismay
In the harkening ordeal of wonder's spice
Given the gift of today, is any and all may?

Ripeness of worth, on the behalf
Of simplicity, there always a reign
Of suppose and its final victory, sass
Ancient as a cloud of virtue can be, there is always pain...

Till we understate the dreams of another
The courtesy of a somber wish, with it to show...
Caught like timidity was a choice, of sincere bother
Letting love be the lucre of the day, a curiosity we owe...

Is a long-standing debt, to a wishes heart...
Which came first, the chastity or the ecstasy?
The doles of harmony, are saviors of shrewdness that art?
Space for lingering in the paces and shadows, of intimacy...

Is a lover's ghost for any who would, or am I the doting meant?
A chance of risen honor, that has the time...
Welcome me to youthful pasts, if not passion in the charm lent
A presence of mind, with a wish as the only way to a soul's kind?

Drinking with also's ghost?
Haven't to fuel, a conversation to live better, than a carnal know...
Of imagination and voiced seldom to favor, a wish that included a host
Of vice to fall in lots of sincere vanity, that was promised how, to a worthier world...

i am not thinking
clearly no more drinking does
a toll on my mind

drink in my hand.
laughter fills the room,
as the band on stage cracks a joke.
inhaling the drug fumes.

this addiction is only temporary.
it keeps me bright,
it makes me forget all the weight i carry.
despite what i feel in the next hour.

i make it home,
laying alone in my bed.
those haunting feelings come back to roam.
they will never leave your head.

no matter how many drinks,
the drugs,
all of the parties,
bars…

at the end of the day,
you still feel like you’re shrinking.
there’s no one to lug you back.
your heart isn’t at ease.
there are still scars.

a.b.

The windows are closed,
The lights are off,
My mind and I are all I´ve got.

My friends are there,
nowhere to be found,
and I am here
all alone.

I wish I could,
reach out and feel
the love for you
I always craved.

But all I have,
and all I know,
is the way
the bottles
stir up my soul.

I missed you once,
I missed you twice,
Then I drank,
Forgot at once.

I knew there was more,
and I opened the door,
you entered with pride,
but I was alive.

In the fridge
There sits the bottle of Joy
Every Thursday She becomes my friend
Every Friday She and I fight

In the drawer
There sits the bottle of Pain
I try to keep it away
But every Saturday
I find it open

In the bin
There sits the bottle of Regret
With its deafening yells
Every Sunday morning

Three Drinks and I are friends
And then we fight
And then we make up again.

passports, abstracts, and cigarettes
i swear it was all just for the aesthetics
thin walls, smoke screens, and window tints
we crawled through one just for the hell of it

it's nineteen and nose rings, i got asked for an id
we're twenty-one in jersey, you like my con artistry
i borrowed a street sign and failed to book an uber ride
everything is so much messier than i would've liked

i tired of people pleasing, and you never reply
we don't really need to talk about it
i try my best to not really think about it
said that i'm conceited, hedonistic, manipulative

but some nights i just want to drink until i start to lie
see, if coping was a job and paid an hourly wage
i'd be working overtime, id have a career drive
and i'd be a millionaire after six shots, or maybe five

Can I see your wine menu? What's the bestseller?

'We have bottles and labels from France, madame'

Oh...

Do you have something stronger?
Something that will knock me off my feet?
Perhaps something more bitter would be better.
Something that will get me home crawling.
Maybe something smoother and a little closer.
French just isn't doing it for me.

𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘻-𝘮𝘰𝘪 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘲𝘶𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘦𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘶𝘳 𝘴'𝘪𝘭 𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢î𝘵.