Unprepared I listen
Open like a mug waiting for a warm drink
To fill it up
But when the words come
they are shards of ice
Not English breakfast tea.
They cut me before I realized
That I should flip my mug
Like a wine glass turned over, to be pulled from the linen tablecloth by a waiter with a bow tie.
None for me tonight.
Thank you.
But I was unprepared for your hatred
splattered like gang graffiti on some poor grocer's window.
Defacing the glass with illegible letters meaning nothing to anyone
but the bitter and hateful
Like you.