i am a glass

I am a glass, filled.
The sugar, ice, and tea
are already inside of me.
The spoon comes in, starts to stir
these ingredients.
Condensation drops slide down my side.
Your hand holds my gently curved,
cold, hard side.
The spoon is laid on the table,
your hand still clutching,
lifting me to your lips
for a long, refreshing drink.
My side softens to your grip,
the heat of your hand,
molding, then melting like the ice,
folding, until like the sugar
I dissolve into the liquid,
the watery tea pooling
in both of your now cupped hands, pulling
with lips into your mouth
and swallowing down your hot, smooth throat.
I am a glass, consumed
by you.