it's 12:04
in the night.
there's a couple
swimming in
eachother's charm
two tables to your right.
there's also a man
in his mid forties
skimming the
newspaper's headlines
on the table
nearest to the door.
12:15
the couple is picking up
their coats
from their wooden chairs.
the guy kindly offers
to help the girl
with hers
and takes the chance
to bury his head
between her bare neck
and her furry jacket.
my stare falls to the floor.
i hear his ruffled kisses.
12:28
the man beside the
door
pays the check.
he coughs as the door
jingles.
chills take over your
feet as the lock
clicks shut.
12:34
why are you still here?
12:35
do you want to stay here?
12:36
do you want me here?
12:37
your hand plays with
your keys
in your pocket.
you sigh collectedly
and so you stand up.
12:38
i pace in my mind
debating on whether
i should open the door
for you.
but i don't want you
to leave.
you blink several times
and set your
locks behind your
ears.
stopping right before
the door
i see the window
pale with your breath,
a sigh once more.
it's as if you had
blurred my vision
for in a fraction of
a second
you're gone
without trace.
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. ____________________...
