He is
black currant tea. Born
and bred in London, sweet-natured
with a secret preference for
the color purple and the scent of
berries.
She is hot cocoa without the
marshmallows. A modern day Mayan
princess adorned in turquoise beads.
Hot tempered with little time for
weakness.
They converse in-between sips of
hot brew. Defiance and regret
roll off their tongues in drops
of bitter spit. The flavor is numb.
He knows he loves her. What he doesn't
know is that he's slowly dying.
Each day, another piece of his heart
sacrificed only to tumble down steps
he climbed to reach her.
