—gothic, tragic, a love letter to what’s already gone
You left it there, halfway consumed,
a porcelain wound in the hallway gloom.
Steam long gone, the ring still wet,
your favorite mug, your lone regret.
A shadowed sip, a final stare,
a cold cup waiting on the stair.
No note. No rush. No shattered glass.
Just silence soft enough to pass.
The kettle off, the lights all low,
a chair not pushed in all the way.
The kind of leaving lovers make
when words might cause the world to break.
Now every morning, just at dawn,
the house exhales what you withdrew.
The coffee pot will gurgle once,
then stop. Then wait. Then hum for two.
And on the stair, the cup still rests.
Your ghost prefers her rituals.
📜 Cold Cup on the Stair – The Recipe
Ingredients:
- 1 cup Brewed Coffee (left to cool beside unfinished business)
- 1 teaspoon Sugar (for what might’ve been)
- Serve in: A mug with initials worn to blur
Instructions:
Make two cups. Only drink one. Leave the other in a liminal place, top step, middle stair, final landing. Do not move it. Do not warm it. Let the absence steep. The rest… she brews herself.