He poured the coffee
Into the cup
He put the milk
Into the cup of coffee
He put the sugar
Into the coffee with milk
With a small spoon
He churned
He drank the coffee
And he put down the cup
Without any word to me
He emptied the coffee with milk
And he put down the cup
Without any word to me
He lighted
One cigarette
He made circles
With the smoke
He shook off the ash
Into the ashtray
Without any word to me
Without any look at me
He got up
He put on
A hat on his head
He put on
A raincoat
Because it was raining
And he left
Into the rain
Without any word to me
Without any look at me
And I buried
My face in my hands
And I cried

there are good types
of feeling small

like when you're in a big city
with tall buildings
and throngs of strangers
surrounding you,
painted with possibility

or when you're wrapped up
in someone's arms
and that person
feels so massive
and you feel so little
and protected
and safe

but this sensation
of small,
this feeling of
insignificance,
like an ant
that could be squished
and no one would care

is not
a good feeling

Well, guess what.
Life is not easy and it
never will be.

Please don't ask
if I'm okay,
I might do something
stupid like open up
to you
and I'm really tired
of getting close to
people and watching
them leave me like
I'm nothing