The mug

I've sat in a darkened cupboard,

Suspended above the icy cold tiled floor of an unheated kitchen

And waited for her.

To use me.

To fill me up with a temporary warmth and take from me what she needed to get on with her day.

I've been dropped.

I've been smashed.

My razor sharp shards slicing the hands the helped me. 

Give me darkness over ice. 

I craved being engulfed in boiling water. 

My silent screams, rose with the steam from my porcelain lips

And disappeared into the gutless body of the person I loved. 


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