Blood Orange Tea Poem by Miss Fairytale

Woman stops at a window
below a blood-orange sky,
Watches drinkers sip from china
cups, tuck crumbs into napkins,
Wishing she were fragile

as their blood-orange eyes.
She thinks her life a log
shed of the weakest tree
Now laying numb in the light
Wishing it were asleep.

As drinkers drink with lips
pink and plump with warmth
She wants to trade their teas
for her splinters
Make them wish they were fragile.



16th April 2006