Not My Cup of Tea

Not My Cup of Tea:

Morning bitterness is not my cup of tea.
My cup is the one over there, emptied and sitting for three days.
The one sitting.
The one that was once full and sweet.
Sugar filled patty-cakes once sat next to her, served with a side of everything I need.

Today’s bitterness is the taste of coffee and grief--
Covered with cream, hidden with cinnamon, and warm with presence.

The depressive backslide.
The tired eyes.
The anger in my chest.
The longing inside.

Avoidance is the breakfast I eat--
Stuck in a loop, doomed to repeat.

But the sun, she still rises over the mountains untainted and pure.
And with her, I continue to rise.

It is not a hate for the world, it is a love I am missing.
It is not a displeasentry, it is a condition.
It was not my choice to lose, it is my choice to speak.

Bitter or sweet, my words bring me ease.
My sorrow brings you heed.

Written by: Kelly Airhart
Not my Cup of Tea Poetry by: Kelly Airhart

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