I'm Worried That if I Go Outside the World will Collapse

Eighth Grade Poems part four

Out of a crowd:

She sat awkwardly at the small cylindrical table
Swallowing boiling coffee like air
Hands folded neatly in front of her
Eyes darting around the room
like she was a child waiting for instructions
And trying not to focus on the boy seated across from her
She fiddled with the ravaged strings of her lime green sweater
And took a shuddering breath
Her eyes finally landing on a small potted plant near the door
Her eyes tuning into the soft music overhead
When he told her he loved her
She could not say the same