The Waitress
In the dim-lit corner of a forsaken cafe,
I dwell alone, as time slips away.
He strides in with an air of indifference,
Yet his gaze betrays no hint of penitence.
Briefly, our eyes entwine in sorrow,
A fleeting moment, a glimpse of tomorrow.
In his hand, a bouquet of broken dreams,
As I suffocate in the silence, it seems.
He won't stay, he won't remain,
Just echoes in the pouring rain.
"Two coffees, please," but I'm left alone,
No warmth embraced, just dreams overthrown.
His honeyed words, now bitter to taste,
A cruel reminder of love misplaced.
Ensnared in his deceit, I drown in despair,
As he fades into the night, leaving me to bear.
He won't endure, he won't stay near,
Just fleeting echoes, crystal clear.
"Two coffees, please," but I'm left lone,
No solace found, just heartache sown.
Amongst the crowd, I stand alone,
Yet he's but a ghost, a heart turned to stone.
A fleeting illusion in the abyss,
Leaving me stranded in amidst.
Outside, the world carries on, oblivious and cold,
As I cling to memories, tattered and old.
He's but a chapter in my tale of woe,
A fleeting presence, lost in the undertow.
He won't linger, he won't remain,
Just fleeting echoes in the rain.
"Two coffees, please," but I'm bereft,
No solace found, just emptiness left.
In this desolate cafe, where dreams go to die,
I'm left to mourn, beneath the ashen sky.
He's the echo of a love turned to dust,
Leaving me here, consumed by mistrust.
Copyright ©
Curie Stark
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