Love, Poetry, & Coffee

~ 26 ~

After a moment-that felt like an eternity-I finally calm my heart beat down. I can still the wetness in my eyelids as I try to push back the tears that's building up. It's best not to shed a tear in public, at least that's what I've been telling to myself since when I was a child. Tears represent weakness. Even though I don't believe in that saying, I'm still not sure about crying in public where people can judge me from left to right. I could practically hear the whispers they might say when seeing me cry. Some statement is different from one another, depending on what kind of person they are.

"Poor guy, something terrible might have happened to him."

"Why is he crying? This is quite embarrassing."

"I can already tell that this man is weak. Weak enough to cry like that in public."

There's a reason why I hate toxic masculinity, and there's also a reason why I try to avoid those kinds of mindset. I wish I have the courage to say that tears doesn't show weakness, instead it shows bravery. A person crying is brave to let their emotion flow out of the without any regret showing it to anyone. They're brave enough to stay true to their emotions without trying to hide it. Hiding an emotion is unhealthy, and that's coming from me. Every therapist might agree with me on that one. I have my bets on Kate agreeing with me when I share that statement to her. Perhaps even Spencer, too, might agree. He seems like a chill person who doesn't judge every person around him. I could just hope every person breathing are like Spencer if that's the case.

I haven't realized that I still have my eyelids closed when someone taps on my shoulder. Slowly opening my eyes, making sure there's no rogue tears that might escape from its prison, I glance to whoever had tapped on my shoulder. I've been greeted by a concern smile from Aileen, and my hot coffee on her tray. I could already sense the question coming my way.

"Are you okay, Declan?" Aileen's worried tone softly enters my ear, dances a bit in my mind until it flows out of my other ear. She places down my coffee on the table in front of me, her lingering eyes light up with concern.

In an automatic response, I smile lightly at her. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine," the slight moment of those words leaving my mouth, it feels so natural for me to lie something like that. I'm not even sure if I hear myself lying, since it sounds so certain and genuine.

But the concern on Aileen's face didn't leave when I said those words. Some people are gifted with eyes that can penetrate through any walls of defenses. In this case, Aileen's gaze can see through my well-placed mask, but she didn't mention anything, as if she's scared that she might step on a boundary. Instead of pushing it, she smiles back-but it doesn't feel right, even for her-"Great, enjoy your coffee, Declan."

I nod at her before turning her heels away from me. When I glance down at my coffee, that's when I realized there's something else that Aileen had delivered. There's a piece of paper under the saucer of the coffee cup. I glance towards Aileen, but her back is to me, and she looks quite occupied with her next customer. Removing the piece of paper, I unfold the paper slowly until I found some kind of writing. It's the most delicate handwriting I've ever seen in my entire life. It's obvious that a woman wrote this, since the way the pen touches the paper is soft, as if the writer is careful not to tear the paper with their writing. Not only that, but it took me a moment to realize that it's some kind of poem. Of course, like a quite literate person I am, I carefully read the passage.

Dear writer,
It's such a lovely day
Lovely as the words you've sent away

Words on a piece of paper
Words of flattery,
Is it sincere or just plain mockery?

Are the words true or false?
Only the writer knows the answer
But the reader consider it to be the latter