A small daily habit carries the whole weight of a lost relationship here. The speaker drinks tea lukewarm, with honey instead of sugar, and we learn this is how "you" used to make it. The poem never says who that person is or why they are gone, but the past tense in "used to" and the word "triggers" suggest a loss that once hurt a great deal, perhaps a breakup or a death.
What matters is the shift in the second half. The tea no longer sets off painful memories. It's "just tea," and it is made "the way I like it." The speaker has quietly taken ownership of something that once belonged to someone else.
The mood is calm and understated. There is no big declaration of healing, only plain, short lines and a shrug-like acceptance. A trace of sadness lingers in the first stanza's memory, but the ending feels settled, even a little proud. Healing here looks ordinary: a cup of tea, nothing more.