🫖Geuripda; The Lukewarm Touch of Longing

🫖Geuripda(그립다)

When I tilt the teacup,

before it meets my tongue,

the water sketches the shape of my throat.

The cooling warmth of the heart lingers longer than words never spoken,

unfolding like unfinished sentences in the mouth.

Your absence was not an empty space but a presence cooling down slowly like steeped memory losing steam.

Beneath the cup, in the lukewarm silence pooled,

still hover two eyes that never met—

round, still, and watching.

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Lukewarm tea isn't something I drink—it drinks me.

Before I can even swallow, the memory has already filled my mouth.

The café was less a place than a mirror for silence, and in that still glass, we avoided looking into each other.

Your hand rested on the table. Mine wrapped the cup to avoid reaching toward yours.

Our final conversation was the absence of words. And strangely, that absence is what remains the longest.

Inside me, that last warmth still stirs quietly.

Because what is seen fades, but the things we refused to face—

those linger.

Longing isn’t for the warmth we’ve lost,

but for the weight of moments we never found the courage to speak.