

Tepid TeaTepid TeaTepid Tea
Lying on my bed, drinking tepid tea, I ponder our decisions, and what they did to me. I would be much warmer if I got under the sheets, But shivering suits my mood; the chill is bittersweet. I could see more clearly if I flicked the light switch on, But then I’d have to see the truth, which is that you’re gone. I would be more comfortable if food passed through my lips, But when you’re starving, not just heartbroken, the pain will somewhat shift. I’d feel better about myself if I put on clean clothes, But when you fabricate a reason, a portion of the pain goes.  
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