The Long Dark Tea Time..

The fragile tea-set of my heart
Is broken.
Fine, fractured fragments fall
Alongside carelessly crumbled cake.
The pot, now as cold as the day, is filled
With clouds blacker than any fine brew,
For the soil has long since swallowed the milk.
Chaos and disarray amongst
Tearstained, torn up table-cloths.
As always, never any time for tea.