modern romance

“all Brazilian coffee tastes the same”
he said with a wry grin, and she looked
like she wanted to punch him,

lips slightly parted, brow furrowed,
a slight twitch under her left eye.
“oh?” she managed to let slip from a forced

“was it something I said?”

oh. oh, no one knows these days how to date
or how to schedule a meet up for coffee.

they aren’t even a couple; they’re just two
people in line in front of me,

but gawd, look at them flirt. she turns away,
orders a cold brew, eager to leave the man’s
space. he checks out her ass.

I feel like crying and it’s not even 1:00 pm
on a saturday. nothing has touched my
tongue since some water that morning.

you know a bone can be sharpened once it
has left the body? I want to make a pick
and pry my eyes out, stab my ears deep.

my mouth will just keep on moving like always.