READING TEA LEAVES
Passion and desire, without the love,
only lasts a while before it’s gone.
It’s like luke warm tea, the bag
left to soak
too long, she advised, bitter to the taste.
I took
another sip of tepid brew,
wished for
the boiling heat of what once was.
As I stared
into my cup, wondering
what
happened to the “if only” we’d dreamed,
she spoke
to me again, in whispered words.
Sometimes it is good to break the
pattern;
the first step – finding the pattern
to break.
Passion and
desire – without the love?
Love
without the desire and passion?
Wanting all
three, I drank the witch’s brew
and broke
the cup with a wish for it all.
Siobhan