The Art of Disappearing
A cup of tea neglected on the kitchen counter
Waiting for the scorching heat to cool down so that
I might sip from its contents
.
Selfishly, the tea stands as
My longing to be comforted
.
Yet it sits—
Three hours later
In a cold heap
honey sitting at the bottom of the cup
.
I’ve forgotten
What it feels like
To be warmed from the inside out
Just as those have forgotten
What it feels like
To be loved by me
.
And maybe that’s Gods blessing
Allowing myself to be
Forgotten
Genuinely Jannah 