and now here i am writing poetry about you in tim hortons i've sunk this low may as well keep going extend the metaphor except we are not symbolic we are real or at least my mind thinks we were and i'm usually right so who are you to say i'm wrong? except you didn't you just didn't say anything and that's what makes me think i should be somewhere else somewhere other than this table growing green with moss and envy bending over time and time again to pick up that lucky penny polishing it off and adding it to my pocket saving up for another drink so i can buy more time waiting around for another chance encounter with you that i know won't amount to anything but hey i can try can't i? i have that right and i use it abuse it and all for what? here i am sitting at a table for two and you? you're somewhere else like you've always been never there in front of me except when passing me by giving me the eye or did i just imagine it? i think i know what i'm talking about but my predictions all put me in the same place sitting here with a cup in front of me slowly emptying but never all the way because i still say i've got time to wait my watch is wrong some excuse to go along with my own stupid games playing the lottery and losing but each small compensation lifts me up i'm so hopeful one day it's gonna **** me and i'll die here in tim hortons with my cold coffee sitting in front of me saying i told you so you should've finished me when you had the time! and i'll know i should've finished us when i had the time maybe then we never would have been like this skirting around each other all awkward smiles cold coffee warmed up is never the same as when it's fresh
tim hortons by the way is a Canadian coffee chain with cheap doughnuts, great place to waste your life writing poetry about people who couldn't care less