Sitting on fake suede, the tap of rain

Drumming its heartbeat

On misty-eyed windows

Tear streaked in

Our drawn out pause.

Teacup clatter of faceless strangers

Mingles with the meaningless words drowning out

The too loud walls.

The world spins with the swirl of your spoon

Dispersing sweetness (artificial of course)

To soften these sounds,

Threatening in their clarity.

Cappuccino froth still fresh on your lip

As you stand to walk away

The fall of your footstep echoing in time

To the mournful beat

Of our Coffee House Blues.