My latest original five-line poem.
Steeping
drop me in hot water like a teabag.
let me steep; my ashes dispersing
and dissolving away to nothingness
from which I came, hanging onto
a tether meant to ensnare me here.
Poem: Steeping
Milam's Musings
“All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”
Milam's Musings 
I used to drink tea all I time (Red rose was my favorite); I’d let it stew and drink it really dark, so I like the “Steeping” metaphor, and the overall piece, which I feel is sad (it makes me think of empty death) and well-executed.
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Thank you so much for reading and your kind words! “Empty death” is powerful.
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