The coffee grew colder
every time you walked in.
You always sat near the window,
where sunlight touched your face
like it was afraid to lose you.
I sat three tables away,
pretending to read books
whose words I never remembered.
Some days we looked at each other
for a second too long.
Enough to notice.
Never enough to begin.
The barista probably thought
we were lovers fighting silently,
or strangers waiting for courage
to arrive with the next cup.
But life is cruel in quiet ways.
You answered calls and left early.
I rehearsed conversations
that died before reaching my mouth.
And between the steam of coffee
and the ticking of ordinary afternoons,
we became experts
at almost.
Then one day
you stopped coming.
No goodbye.
No final glance.
Just an empty chair by the window
and two people
who could have loved each other
if only they had spoken
before time drank the last sip for them.
May 23
May 23, 2026 at 9:56 AM UTC
The coffee grew colder
every time you walked in.
You always sat near the window,
where sunlight touched your face
like it was afraid to lose you.
I sat three tables away,
pretending to read books
whose words I never remembered.
Some days we looked at each other
for a second too long.
Enough to notice.
Never enough to begin.
The barista probably thought
we were lovers fighting silently,
or strangers waiting for courage
to arrive with the next cup.
But life is cruel in quiet ways.
You answered calls and left early.
I rehearsed conversations
that died before reaching my mouth.
And between the steam of coffee
and the ticking of ordinary afternoons,
we became experts
at almost.
Then one day
you stopped coming.
No goodbye.
No final glance.
Just an empty chair by the window
and two people
who could have loved each other
if only they had spoken
before time drank the last sip for them.
