“Teacups in Early December“
©leo.banares
I sat in front of this microchip-filled monitor…
As I gaze upon the words—
Starting to write itself,
Bleeding its way out of my mischievous mind.
I sat at a table—
In an old, worn-out café,
Looking at the paint-chipped walls,
Rusty-legged chairs.
I sipped from this teacup—
Full of words and memories.
A chill went up my spine,
Made me shiver, almost dropped my cup.
I then hear music,
Coming from the antique jukebox—
–“Oh please, say to me
you’ll let me be your man
and please, say to me
you’ll let me hold your hand.”
Memories started to come back,
As a gust of wind passed by my sight.
And un-noticing, it sucked my soul.
I went back months—
–cool winds,
Warm sun,
Blinding light.
The rays of the sun,
Reflecting itself on the cold,
White,
Snow.
Then I saw you,
Sitting in front of me.
In this old, worn-out café.
I touched your black hair,
And remembered everything.
We were drinking the same tea,
The song playing on the jukebox echoed—
–“Oh please, say to me
you’ll let me be your man
and please, say to me
you’ll let me hold your hand.”
In a snap, I came back…
The memories were lost…
This place,
This old café…
This is where we first met…
You smiled at me…
While sipping your tea.
The chill,
Of the early December winds,
Fought with the heat from this unflavored, hot tea.
6 cups of hot tea…
6 days of uncertainty…
6 years of hiding…
I came here…
Once again…
To try…
With all my might…
To forget—
–forget all the memories we shared…
and go,
Move on…
Forget you…
I can’t lie to myself anymore…
I can’t say that we’re meant to be…
So here I am…
With 6 cups of tea in front of me…
In this month of freezing winds…
Sitting,
Thinking,
Watching,
Writing—
–writing this poem,
This senseless, useless poem called,
“Teacups in Early December.”