Cuppa

I'm at our old kitchen bar once again.
It makes me smile that your cuppa taste 
just the same as it always did.
For a short while it was pleasant.
Our daughter engaged in some kitchen 
memories that we share.
You couldn't help yourself and fire in
verbal shots. 
The moment like our love, comes to an end.
Up into the cold night air, away from us forever.
I scan around, I realise your dreams have died,
and you're now a stranger with much to hide.
Stop, you're making a princess hard.
an I accept every last drop of us, just like
this cuppa has gone.



Published by Smith Shine Poetry

I am my poetry, my poetry is me. I pray what I believe. I believe what I pray.

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