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She stands there, hazel eyes on me, like Psyche
She was coming back from her visit to the restroom
Heralded by the sweet smell of her flower perfume
On the phone, she’s stopped to finish where they make tea
The Barista pass my table, says “She’s talking to her fiance.”
We’ve been hitting it off and I don’t wanna assume
And when she sits down, smiling, ready to resume
“So you have an open relationship?” I ask shyly
Her eyes widen and then she’s looking all shameful
She’s tearing up and I realise I’m the crisis rebound
“We’re in a rough patch, I wanted someone to want me.”
An hour later, as I sit there disillusion-al
The Barista shouts, “Cheer up, good dates will come around.”
I stare at her for a minute, she smiles back at me wryly
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- 4 years ago
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