abbync10

in a warmed pot hot water and tea leaves meet in an intimate embrace pleased by the tea leaves' attentions the water becomes a sweet golden nectar but the water is a cruel lover and she turns bitter if held too long so the tea leaves are left behind tired and used, forgotten the water has taken what she wants

She speaks to me fondly of passions and talents, of guitars and stars, with such breathless intensity then stops short and apologises for speaking at all. All because somewhere in her life, someone she loved broke her heart by ignoring her beautiful words and telling her to shut up, keep it down, nobody cares. People aren’t born sad. We make them that way.