comfortable silence- a collection of poems

coffee

my palms salt with terror

as the barista asks for my name.

she waits expectantly, 

eyes burning holes through my closing throat.

i say the first thing that comes to mind-

a title my family forbid,

a title my friends gawked at,

a title i spent an eternity searching for.

she nods,

and spells it incorrectly on my cup.

i step aside,

my mother and brother a few feet away

and silently pray

she doesn't shout it out.

i'm right here,

maybe she won't yell it

i think to myself

as she yells it.

my mother rolls her eyes,

says "let's go, girl."

i force the bitter liquid down my throat,

and pretend to fit that role. 

i force the bitter liquid down my throat,

it's okay, i say to myself

and pretend

to like coffee.

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