four hours in a cafe

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 29, 2018

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Submitted: August 29, 2018

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We tell each other how our week has been

And talk about the moments that brought us here.

A weird interview, the end of a semester

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? A few weeks.

Small talk upends the corners of our minds.

Typical 

 

Infatuation.

He has his arm around me, somehow

slips his hands into my back pockets

shamelessly

traces circles on my palms.

I try to ignore the way he smells

like home. Against his chest,

I know I’ve lost. 

we both feel that electricity

“curious as ever.”

 

Somewhere I’ve never been,

We talk about what it means to find True North

And he implies I might be his.

A twitch of the compass needle.

 

“Confusion, uncertainty, guardedness.”

He names the furrows forming on my face as

I realize that once we let this moment go

the door will close

And I’ll be back to pounding on it for him to let me in

as he sits inside

once again

oblivious

 

I didn’t realize until it we had to leave how

the wine-colored walls and the empty space and the coffee machine with the little brass eagle

enveloped us.

Or how we were just a blip

on a cushioned bench

An infinitesimal bundle of arms and hands;

of passions, steadfast or homeless;

of bubblegum pink packets filled with fake sugar

come inside to escape the chill of the wind and the rain and the freshly fallen snow in the world beyond glass windowpanes.

And to pretend the rest of the universe didn’t exist.

 


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