I sit here, using the pen I stole to write this And wonder if you see my face in the steam of your coffee Like I hear your voice in the half-murmurs of everyone around me I count 11 empty seats in this cafe and see your ghost in all of them When I met you, you smelled like ground beans and woodsmoke Velvet against my mouth, I had become addicted To your taste, both bitter and sweet I would cup your face in my hands and tell you That there was more warmth here than any drink Your hazelnut eyes crinkled and we would laugh Throaty and dark, I melted into the hum of it When you left me, every glass in the house shattered I was made entirely of cracks, overfull and leaking My heartbreak a great chip that grew only larger We touched for the last time and I felt the fire of you Found it scalding against my cheek The whisper of a bonfire as you walked away Only tar black and thick against my rasping throat I choked on every memory of your lips Still, sat here, in this room that is all you Only 2 empty seats now, enough for us Enough for our ghosts to laugh together I pack away the books, the stolen pens Leave my latte, grown colder now Untouched