Cutlery Waltz

I ask you, fill up my heart.

As a teacup, to the brim.

Camomille, rooibos, chai,

Just two sugars and no milk.

I want to fill up my heart,

but all I do is burn my tongue.

My premonition is, perchance,

that I feel things so out of tone?

I want you to fill up my heart.

I want to fill my heart with you.

But when you link your hand and mine

I feel so sick it all will spew.

I want you to fill up my heart,

but I'm no cup, held by no saucer.

And if it were to be filled up,
it all would spill and spell disaster.

– - Lapinon, non. - –