Cold Tea Blues
If I pour your cup, that is friendship
If I add your milk, that is manners
If I stop there, claiming ignorance of taste,
that is tea
I've always fallen in love easily. And I have always loved committedly. In my youth the passion I would feel was always very intense, often to the point that it burned both me and the object of my affections. Though I have remained friends with several of my great loves, it was rarely without great difficulty in the interim.
But if I measure the sugar
to satisfy your expectant tongue
then that is love,
sitting untouched and growing cold
I face today the realization that I am no slower to love, and the passion can still burn intensely, though it is tempered with responsibilities and experience. Loving the unattainable ones is also nothing new. What is new is the thought that the unattainable has been attained before and thus could be again. What is new is the resignation. What is new is the restraint to guide the love and passion in a way that can be accepted.
So I will feel and I will let what is be what it will be. And if it grows cold: it grows cold.
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