—descending into a more domestic haunting, where grief hides in routine and the kitchen remembers more than it should

You never meant to leave it there.
That mug, her favorite, chipped with care,
still sits inside, behind the door,
like a tomb you don’t recall building.
You meant to heat it, just reheat it,
but the days outpaced intention.

Now weeks have passed, the coffee clots,
a circle of mold like a closing eye.
The handle points as if it knows
which one of you left first.
The scent is sour, thick with time,
a perfume of postponed mourning.

You open it sometimes, glance inside,
then shut it quick, like guilt or mail.
You won’t clean it. You don’t lie.
It keeps her voice in caffeine rot,
a bitter broth of half-goodbyes,
the last warm thing you let go cold.

📜 The Mug in the Microwave – The Recipe

Ingredients:

Instructions:
Place mug in microwave. Forget about it. Repeat for 7–12 days. Do not remove. Let mold form naturally and don’t intervene. When the grief rises in the steam, open the door. Don’t drink. Just listen.