Cold Tea 
Simran Ahira

The tea is cold in the bottom of the mug

And teabag slumped

Like a woman pruny in the bath

After hours past

She is not who she wanted to be

She is not who she wants to be

She does not want to listen to you

Do not tell her what to do

She’ll consult the tarot cards

And lie “it’s only for a laugh”

Crystals placed on bedside tables

She’s never been so mentally stable!

Her horoscope says all will be fine

At least she’s not a fire sign  

The candles die, evening sighs 

The tea gets poured down the drain

Along with herself, and the rest of the day.