Really, It’s Not You

I refuse to share this mug with you.

It’s not because I’m afraid that
our saliva will mix,
or that our lip prints might touch.
It’s also not because
I might get your cooties,
even though I know you have them.
But it’s your dust that scares me.

When you pick this white mug up
your finger dusts will smear over the sides.
When your lips touch the edges,
those tiny grey particles will sprinkle
into my Green Tea and float like dead carcasses.

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