"TEA"

I have not seen you this vulnerable in a while, 
you were once hard in the face, and the strands 
of your hair were as sharp as your wit. 
Looking at you, was an awful memory plummeting 
onto me.  You were a weapon. 

But you've come to me now, again, 
As you do now and again. Only this time you may
have melted into something warm. 

I pour you, carefully into something half empty. 

As I sip on you like morning tea, I am overwhelmed 
by taste - a rich mouthful of the embodiment of all 
that has been tainted. An acquired taste, one that 
required a larger sip for confirmation. 

But then I burn my tongue on your hot temper. 
I remember to remember that I can only 
indulge in little sips, drops, doses of you.