No one showed up.
I should have been ecstatic,
but I loathed your dull expression
I felt nostalgia for the glow of your
complexion.
I knew all about what it was like
every day I suffered something alike.
I felt for you a little empathy
so I neared you with fair sympathy.
"waiting for someone?"
You didn't look at me.
Why didn't you look at me?
"uhh...yes-nevermind"
So you left.
Both cups untouched.
That's when I saw the mess,
all your napkins scribbled with phrases of love and distress.
I couldn't believe my eyes,
you had so much to opress.
But what struck me the most
was the note beneath your opposite cup,
in which rapturous I read
you had written "To Faust."
YOU ARE READING
I named her Africa #Wattys2015
PoetryI didn't mind if my fingertips were rusted with coffee grounds, or if my palm still hosted bread crumbs, I reached out my hand across the table, and you squeezed it but proved me wrong. My mind was spiraling, my heart, unstable. ____________________...
