The Cracked Cup

Empty cup in hand, I trace the chipped rim,

Haunted by laughter that used to brim.

Each crack whispers stories, bittersweet and bright,

Of stolen moments, bathed in moonlit light.

Your touch lingers, a phantom warmth now cold,

Leaving promises broken, a love untold.

Words unspoken choke in my throat's tight hold,

Echoing fragments of a story left cold.

But like the cup, can my heart mend and whole,

Find solace in pieces, and a love untold?

For even fragments, when gently embraced,

Can hold the memory of joy, in a broken space.

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