I see you enter, wet, over the tendrils of steam
rising from my coffee.
your smile brings me far more warmth,
your perfume sneaks through
surrounding sweet aromas of pastry
sending my heart racing
for a moment before you sit at the table
next to mine.
my mind is set a blaze,
concoctions of fantasy.
the scream of the steamer,
clattering mugs pulls me back.
you're not here for me
but I'm here for you,
and I wish you could see me.
I leave before you do
knocking your arm as I go.
with heat in my cheeks and my throat caught
I'm too afraid to apologise,
focusing too hard
on not making a more foolish scene,
breaking into a half run
through the sun shower,
as if I have somewhere to be
when something grabs my arm.
its you, handing my wallet over
with soft warm eyes,
I will away the fog
and thank you.
you smile with pity.
I see there's no hope for us,
for me, with you
-
Author:
Kenny O'Donnell (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 24th, 2025 08:44
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence, Cheeky Missy
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Comments3
We sell ourselves short and in doing so lock the door to what could have been. Maybe it would work, maybe not who's to know if you don't give yourself a chance and try, then persist until it is certain. A wonderful write of the inner self and its doubts.
Thanks for reading Soren, always appreciated your comments and mindfulness.
A wonderful write about self doubts we have, shall we shan't we scenarios, we will never know unless we at least trying, nicely written and a pleasure to read
Thank you for reading
You are very welcome
La, how gorgeously rendered with superb imagery and an exquisite poignancy, tendering a most painful reality many will resonate with, until I'm left speechless yet so very, very sad. Thank you very much for sharing. I love it, albeit I'm sorry you must taste such exquisite misery.
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