“I carry around the love I once gave you like a cup of coffee.”

I carry around the love I once gave you like a cup of coffee.

I take it with me everywhere I go, unable to put it down.

Though the cup is light and I am strong, its burden weighs heavily on me and becomes increasingly inconvenient to hold as time passes.

The same cup of coffee that once warmed my giving hands has now left them raw and exposed; too tender to accept the embrace of an outreached palm.

I keep my wounds covered so that one day they will heal, but even my protective clothing is stained by careless spills.  They wear me like a badge of your recklessness.

I move slowly and stand guarded, as anyone I bump into runs the risk of getting burned, too.

I can’t simply pass this coffee off to someone else to enjoy; this coffee was for you.

I can’t sip it until it’s gone, as even the slightest indulgence leaves me sputtering, incessantly choked by the bitterness of your betrayal.  The taste of deception lingers on my breath, drying my cracked lips with every shallow, exasperated gasp.

Some days the cup feels half-empty; other days half-full.  But every day that I hold onto you, the heavier your weight feels.

I carry around the love I once gave you like a cup of coffee.

And though the love that I carry is too extraordinary to be recycled…you, oh stale one, are entirely disposable.

So out with the rest of the trash you go.


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