yesterday's tea,

Still on the table. 5PM, when you left me.

One chair, two chairs.

One chair that I sit on, one chair that I stare at.

I keep counting until I see grey. 

the exact shade of tea in its current state.

you wouldn’t know, you left it when it was brown and new.

Now I deal with its remnants.

Most tea parties are tea parties of more than two people.

This one was a special event with exclusive invites.

I let you boil milk on my gas stove.

Now I am left with a funky smelling home.

Most men leave when you have nothing to give and you’re pickled to the bone.

Not when you’re beautiful and free to the core

I thought I knew how you liked your tea 

I thought you’d stay for more than a few evenings

Now I am left with a rotting, young tea.