Monday, February 8, 2010

Silent Conversations

I’ll be the one stirring my drink.
That’s what he said.
As if he would be the only brunette twirling his sugared café.
I didn’t need to worry though.
No one could mistake him for an average coffee shop devotee.
The moment I walked through the door I could feel his gaze.
It wasn’t the intrusive stare of a predator,
But rather a measuring scale that lived in his green eyes.
I slid into the booth across from him.
He tilted his head to acknowledge my presence,
But he never stopped watching me.
The only sound was his spoon in the mug,
A melodic clink as he drowned another sugar packet.
We talked without words for an eternity,
Silently tugging at loose ends.
My face cracked beneath the facade,
Walls crumbling to dust.
The coffeepot ran dry
And the night ran long.
Still serenely he stared,
Enveloping me with his world.
When the clock struck midnight he blinked,
Then paid his bill.
As we parted he placed his hand on mine
And I cried agonizingly dry tears.