poetry

recycle

th-1

the ice hits the bottom of the cup with a crash

all at once

ice to water

collects at the bottom

a mixture of new moisture

and spit

hollow taste

abandon tea leaves

no time to steep

A by product of time

an unwanted half ass refill

the straw goes up

the sound of an untuned violin

and a careless player

the ice rattles

trapped

pressing against plastic

to be left

at best

in a recycle bin

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