Strong coffee in a soup cup
Once filled to the brim
Black and cold now
Left half drunk by the ashtray
Overflowing lipstick stained butts and ashes
On the night table where you left it
When you went to sleep
Before you told your cat good night
Patting her on her head
As she lay curled at your feet
Under flat and fancy sheets
Anticipating the kibble
That morning will bring
What a feast

One night later a knock at your door finds you
Standing with a fist
Trying to decide
How to hold on
To shattered shards
That you never asked for
That will most certainly bring
Seven years of bad luck
Yet you hold on anyway
Fancy sheets now twisted, dampened with sweat
Blood streaming from wounds
In varying stages of healing
As the broken pieces you hold so carefully
Cut you to the bone

Everyone wonders how long
Before you open your hand
Shake away that painful debris
Dust yourself off and carry on
But there is something exquisite
That comes with the pain
The scales are balanced so to favour
Pleasure justifies the toil of labour
Until the extra weight
Throws all out of kelter
And the final scream
Scatters all
Running for shelter
But thanks for holding on for so long