Tables

You have the same thing on your minds, but you'll both never know.

~ Pick up the phone. ~

I watch the cars leave the driveways.

They speed away towards lives you'll never know.

You hear the rain on your window,

Drops so delicate, like the edges of my dress now frayed.

You go downstairs to a stale cup of coffee.

I stare at my bowl, like it holds some kind of warning.

My eyes on inked words, it's just another morning.

You turn your head to my chair, but I'm not there.

You have the taste of liquor in your mouth.

I have the taste of words I said.

We sit at our tables thinking about things we regret.

Only one day, but feels like forever now.

A ring is taunting you from the other room.

A tan line is taunting me on my left ring finger.

The ghosts of our words unsaid still linger,

Thick like humidity from a storm in the afternoon.

We're at different tables in scattered places,

But we sit together on opposite sides.

We sit here and contemplate changing our minds.

It can't be over. We've left far too many traces. 

I reach for the phone.

You put it down.

The rain pours outside.

Is it all over now?

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