#teacup
Steam rising from a cracked teacup,
I’m just sitting in my room,
Trying to slow my breathing while the city starts to loom.
Alleyways outside feel tighter than before,
Like every turn I take just leads me back to more.
I swear I feel eyes on me,
even when I’m alone,
Like the walls got a memory,
like the place got a tone.
Every little sound got me asking what does it means,
But there’s never any answers,
just the silence in between.
I been carrying things I don’t know how to explain,
Try to set ’em down but they just come back the same.
Time don’t feel right
it slips, it drags, it bends,
Days blur together,
nights don’t ever really end.
See people moving past me but I can’t match the pace,
They laughing, living normal
I’m just stuck in one place.
Built my own walls just to feel a little safe,
Now I’m tripping over them, got nowhere left to escape.
There’s a drip from the ceiling,
yeah I hear it when it’s quiet,
Like a warning I ignore ‘cause I don’t wanna try it.
Even the floor hums,
like it knows something I don’t,
Like it’s holding onto stories that it knows that I won’t.
But I’m still getting up,
still moving through the day,
Even when it feels like I’m just drifting away.
Somewhere in the noise there’s a piece of me that stays,
Trying to hold it together in a thousand small ways.
In thousand small ways...
Mar 28
Mar 28, 2026 at 5:53 PM UTC
Dear little teacup,
I found you at the thrift store
Nestled amongst the big teacups
With your shining gilden lining
And your pretty petunia shape
You filled my heart with love
Although you were only 1.99
To me, you are priceless
Dear little teacup,
I cannot wait to place you beside
All of my precious collections
With your lovely violet finish
And courting man and woman
Surrounded by trailing little flowered vines
Dear little teacup,
I imagine you've been lonely
Without your friends for so long
Don't worry little teacup
For I will keep you safe
Aug 6, 2022
Aug 6, 2022 at 8:24 PM UTC
Who lied that the moon hung only in the sky?
I poured the moon in my teacup.
It was floating.
Mouthful moonlight.
Glorious celebration of an orchestra
from scattered crickets.
Feb 28, 2020
Feb 28, 2020 at 6:31 PM UTC
There was a porcelain teacup on the shelf
hidden away behind the others
Long ago she had found it in a dusty old shop
and held it with care as many would
close to her heart
cradling it like something precious
She took it home that day
There on her shelf was a little teacup on the shelf
shown proudly on display
Dainty and sweet with little tea stains
lips had left a little pink smudge on the corner
Loved and appreciated the teacup sat
There was a dusty teacup on the shelf
among the packed boxes it went
Surrounded by windows draped by black
and the smell of salt in the air
Packed away and stowed in a closet it stayed
There in the box lay a little teacup
dusty and chipped a bit on the edge
A reminder of times went by
of tea parties at the kitchen table
of little ladies dancing on the carpet
There among the other cups and such the teacup lay
as they mourned another lost and pulled their lips to a smile
remembering good times gone by and loves lost
Seeing the disrepair and with much care
they took the teacup from the box
There on the counter a teacup sat
freshly dusted and glued together
It stood filled with rosy tea and healing herbs
brought to a mouth kissed gently
They let out a sigh sat the cup down
and began to cry
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 3:18 PM UTC
This broken teacup of mine,
Lays on the floor.
Pieces scattered and crushed into the carpet.
A mosaic of pain.
This broken teacup of mine,
Stabs and slices,
As I pick up the shattered porcelain.
White stained red.
This broken teacup of mine,
I can’t put back together.
I remember it fondly from when it was whole
And admire its new beauty
As I wait, patiently.
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 3:30 AM UTC
There's a storm in my teacup,
An ache in my head,
A plethora of words,
That are better unsaid.
There's a monster inside me,
That never stops speaking,
Though I try to control,
The havoc it's seeking.
You think I'm a good person,
But I do not agree,
My friend: you only judge me,
Based on what you can see.
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 9:41 AM UTC
All my cigarettes cant create all these moments that I crave
The smoked out thoughts, and careless talks
Leaves me breathless, in the kitchen
You never see what I want to show
All the taped up glass, masking the broken teacups
The roads unlit, the day sweeps into dusk
Alone in my self;
crowded with all these cracked dishes
Never able to let the cloth catch the dust
The last meal, has reached the minute hand
Through the window, a single star staring
Watching me inhale, as the smoke covers the broken cups
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 9:01 PM UTC
i'm full to the brim
of insecurity
from the words
that you fed me
tip me over
i'll spill
it might burn
but i'm left half empty
pour me out
of the lie
that i need you
to be full
i may be a teacup running low
but i am whole
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 12:08 PM UTC
The honey in the lion sounds like a delicious thing––
a gentle balm capable of subduing
the cruellest of monsters.
According to the stars and tattooed,
you fancied yourself king of the jungle––
lazy in hot African afternoons.
Golden and tawn with sleepy sun-gold eyes,
shaggy mane, muzzle red with
the blood of a gazelle.
Did you think me such easy prey?
Or was I so much fermented honey,
only a sweet intoxicant.
Sun warmth seeps from jungles of cold concrete.
I mistook your gargoyle wings
for those of a guardian angel’s.
I overlooked your rough skin, your
crooked hawk nose and your skinny ribs,
and assigned fine things in you that didn’t exist.
So duped, I acquiesced to your slimy kiss.
Your mouth a neglected cemetery,
teeth a row of mossy tombstones.
Vampire. Incubus. Your seduction like grotesque death.
You named me tempest in a teacup,
but I was the eye of the storm.
Until the night the eye was eradicated,
and the storm blew in,
striking me dumb with your sound and fury.
But no spattered blood and no spreading bruise
to be found in the pattern of the kaleidoscope.
No cause for alarm.
Today I am lost in a picture show,
a beautiful world coloured by nostalgic past.
Women’s lips the vivid red print of a velvet valentine.
Head in the Clouds, I fantasize about a certain scene.
Because you think violence is ****
retaliation – ********** in my dream.
Give me an eye for my eye,
for all the eyes you plucked, from women and breadwinners.
Give me blood running down your back, sweet as honey.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 5:37 PM UTC
A smudged grainy ring against blue lines
it cuts through his handwriting like a breadknife
the blue ink ripples with the water-damaged paper
reassuringly human amidst the bleached whiteness
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 11:10 PM UTC
**** you.
**** you for being so far away
**** you for making me want you
I can say it certainly is not fair,
What is this, the ******* teacup ride?
I always hated the fair.
Fishing for plastic ducks and shooting impossible targets
Seems like a setup for failure to me.
**** you for making me take a look at myself in the mirror
And for making me ask questions
For making me lie
And for making me tell the truth.
Why can't things be easy?
Oh yeah, that's just not how it works around here.
**** you for making my imagination run wild.
For casting yourself in the movies my brain constantly films
And **** you for getting the cinematography just right.
I can't look away.
**** you because all I have is my imagination.
I can make you whomever I want you to be.
**** you for curling your hair and for having those lips
And for being comfortable with yourself around me
**** your small wrists and your quirky characteristics
Your eyeliner and your fingernails
**** your sparkling smile and your hips
And **** you for making me want you so bad.
**** me.
**** me for yearning.
**** me for learning
That it's not that simple,
That nothing is set in stone,
That people are confusing as hell.
**** me for taking the time to write this poem
**** how angry it's making me
And **** the fact that I'm writing it because of you.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC