i wiped my supple yet salty cheeks with my chunky sweater sleeve
and i feel the waitress stealing glances of me in the silence
trying to comprehend what kind of pain i was going through.

i took my feet off the cushioned seats across from me and put my laptop in my backpack behind an essay and a novel i'm almost finished with.
put money on the chipped wooden table and put my orange rinds in the mug
and went off with a
painted half-smile and a
broken heart