Lips and Cup

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Lips touch cups—hot, then cold,
Sips of silence, stories told.
Steam that dances, then fades to air,
Dreams we chased beyond compare,
Now just moments missed beyond repair,
And losers' fate, a heavy snare,
Where luck and destiny both stare,
And silent rooms lack fervent prayer.

One sip sweet, the next one sour,
Fate flips sides in just an hour.
A cheer, a cry, a sudden hush,
Life pours fast, then leaves us crushed,
And scatters dreams we thought would flush,
While losers' luck leaves hopes a mush,
A twist of destiny's harsh brush,
Where whispered pleas find no soft hush.

Eyes meet death, not with a scream,
But in the pause between a dream,
A future sketched, a path we sought,
A tapestry of what life ought,
Now just one touch we never got,
Entangled in a loser's knot,
Where destiny has firmly plot,
And absent faith leaves spirits shot.

One hug lost, one name forgot,
And all the milestones life had wrought,
The laughter shared, the tears that fell,
The vibrant stories we would tell,
Now echo in an empty shell,
Where losers' tales forever dwell,
And destiny's cruel stories swell,
Unblessed by bells of chapel.

We raise our cups in hopeful hands,
Yet find the cracks we didn’t plan.
Not all full hearts overflow—
Some are dry, and now they know
The barren ground where dreams won't grow,
A loser's seed that grief will sow,
Where luck's caprice begins to show,
And silent skies no solace throw.

Lips and cups, both bear the truth:
Of wins and wounds, of age and youth.
And when the bitter lingers long,
For futures lost, where did we go wrong?
It’s mom we crave to make us strong,
Against the fate that makes us wrong,
Where luck and destiny belong,
And echoes fade of sacred song.

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