You have narrowly missed your destination. Slumped upon the curvature of the plastic, you seem to embody a duality of being both turgid, yet somewhat deflated. I can see what you’re made of through your translucent skin, what I had relied upon to feel alive is now quite unappealing to me. The last of your life force dribbles down the side, I will have to clean that up later for I can’t quite face it at the moment. I still haven’t had enough of your elixir to carry out even a menial task such as this.
There was a time when I thought very highly of you. I will even admit that you were the first thing in my thoughts when I awoke this morning. In fact, I thought of nothing but you as I rose from my bed and made my way to the cupboard to chance upon finding you. You sat there, inert, open minded to whatever destiny befell you. I too had an open mind, and with the promise of your touch upon my soul, my heart began to warm to you. Propriety forced me to stand there awkwardly with my hands on the kitchen work top while you sat coyly in your cup. The tension grew between us as my passion for you began to rise to a level so high that it was almost whistling through the greyness of the morning. I must admit that I could not contain it for it had hit boiling point and I had to let you know, and thus inevitably I poured my passion over you.
At first you seemed quite flustered, but it became apparent that you were in fact dancing with joy. It was a joy so profound that it began to permeate through the cup, spreading warmth through the infusion of our passion and happiness. You began to fully embody yourself, and you filled your bath with all the colours of your past. You seemed to be having such a joyous time that I hadn’t the heart to pull you out just yet, but there was a point when the cup took on a darker tone which showed me the countenance of your impatience. Yes I know you were eager, so was I, but I was weak and I needed you to be strong for me.
I realise now that I must have disappointed you quite bitterly when I suggested that our time together this morning should be joined by others. I didn’t consult you on the matter, and when they arrived, your countenance turned into an ever so pale version of your strong colour that I scarcely knew you. When I finally came to fetch you, you did not yield to me as I thought you would. Bloated with the irritations of the party, you began to lose that very essence that drew me to you in the first place.
I should have tasted you, we should have experienced one parting moment of our love before I let you go. For when I did release you I must have done it with some reluctance as I could not see it through, and while I attempted to fling you into that black hole of weak memory, you were inadvertently caught along the curvature of regret. I must sit and watch you now, as you reside in a liminal space having not quite reached your destination, but having reached the point of no return.
I hold onto your memory, its dulled experience warms by body but pales in comparison to the real thing. How can I cope with this bitterness? I must appropriate it further. By adding grains of consolation I am thus able to curb the bitter taste that arises when I recall your memory. The regret, which previously made my tongue arid, is now tinged with sweetness.
Through taking these steps I do feel stronger, and perhaps able to move on at some point today. I assure you that once I am of sound mind I shall finally send you to your destination, I shall give you peace. Your memory is beginning to fade from lukewarm to tepid as you start to dry out, slowly losing hope that only my tears could replenish.
‘Ode to a Teabag’ was performed by Philip Elvy on 29th February 2012 as part of the Love Bites Anti-Valentines Night