We meet up
With your friends
At a cafe.
It's pretty.
But you catch
Most of my attention
In a net along
With many others.
We get coffee
Each the way
We like it.
I get my usual order:
Cold coffee,
Refreshing like a cup
Of ice water
On your head
On a sunny day,
Blended with much
Cream and more cream,
Like sweet strawberries
Picked wild in the forest,
To the point where
You can barely
Notice the bitterness.
And a topping of
Whipped cream
And rainbow sprinkles,
Like colorful glitter,
Of course.
You laugh at my order
It's kind hearted.
You get your coffee
Almost like mine
But warm
And without the
Rainbow sprinkles.
What a shame.
I don't know
What your friends get.
I don't care.
Your order is
The most significant
To me.
You make sure
Everyone else is
Satisfied, however.
I don't like
Your friends.
It feels like
An olive green fog
Is surrounding them,
Stealing your sunlight.
I don't like them.
Their laughs
Seem fake.
Their expressions
Hold guilt and greed
And jealousy and envy
All in one
Imitation of a smile.
YOU ARE READING
love?
PoetryA series of poems about a speaker's love life. The characters included are entirely fictional. Includes mentions of d*ath. Please do not read if this subject is triggering to you.
