“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.