Tea Cup

I’m small.
fragile and can’t hold much. I still try. I attempt to hold more than I can handle. a pot of tea being poured into my cup has just reached the rim. but I want more. but I can’t. I can’t handle it. I can’t take anymore tea. I keep the tea in my cup because I like being full. I don’t want to be empty. imagine being alone with nothing. when the tea greets me, I try to make extra room. I can’t but I still try. I’m not a normal tea cup, I am cracked. the tea sneaks out of the cracks and eventually I become empty again. one day I will break and the tea will all flow out. but that day won’t be good. my person may get upset. she uses me everyday. I’m her favorite cup. she’s even tried to fix me. but the tea keeps spilling.
here she comes.
she’s a little sad today. more sad than usual. when she uses me I will cheer her up.
but as she filled me up with tea, she didn’t stop.
the tears coming from her eyes dropped down into the tea, the tea is flowing over me.
It’s okay...
she will be okay when she drinks from me.
but I broke.
and so did she.
I became little pieces of glass as she remained whole on the outside slowly falling apart, but her heart shattered.
then I realized I’m not a teacup.
all this time, this warmth feeling I loved was the love she had for him. she overflowed with love for him. but he took advantage of that and used her. shed continue to give her all, even when she knew she couldn’t. She couldn’t open her heart to him anymore. but she’s afraid of being alone. just like I don’t like to be without tea. I never had cracks. Her love for him, was slowly slipping away. Every “I’m sorry” was one step closer to “I’m done”
she was done.
and so was I.