The outside of the China teacup,
Chipped and cracked but still standing up,
Straight
Vines wrap round the China glass like hands wrap round my throat
Bottom bears coffee stains and teabag remains, like a sad girl who bears her scars
Brim has a special need for a lips touch
like a middle schooler has for lunch

Today,
It holds a special type of poison
The type of poison that hurts before you drink it
The type of poison that isn’t really poison poison
But the type of poison that you pour inside me
and the sad thing is
is that I love your poison
And I’ll drink your poison everyday until you stop giving me poison to drink