Hot Tea

I would describe myself as a cup of tea

not everyone’s preferred, Coffee being first.

I would like to say I am always sweet and soothing.

But I am often scolding hot and bitter.

You created me as if accidently

Drowning my being in boiling angers

stirring my emotions in a whirlpool

My blood mixing with water

a dark amber brown escaping

like a shark you swallowed me up

you happily feasting on me

With a pinch of sugar or honey

you would feed me to others

You and your friends enjoyed me

until my cup run dry, every last drop

my tea bags no longer flavorful

and you threw me away.

But I had never been happier

until I was out of your mug.

Now being enjoyed sparingly

by one, and only one,

who cherishes my warm embrace.