coffee.

As I sit
across from you
this coffee fills the air
with grounds
piling up in pauses
in conversation.
I stare
smiling falsely
waiting
praying for agreement.
Judgement.
It’s been so long -
We’ve missed this,
each other,
But now here we are.
I sip my drink,
ice cold,
clear,
water -
the last drop. You’ve stirred your coffee
over and over
damning the barista
who crafted that flower
out of cream.
I shake my head
and get up,
crumpling the napkin
I’d held
clenched
for 20 minutes of small talk.
Leaving.
We used to do this
and that,
but now
it is now
and I don’t even drink coffee.
You know this.

© 2017