At the Coffee Shop
AT THE COFFEE SHOP
Her lip quivers,
shivering at the injustice
he threw her a few minutes ago.
I stand quietly beside
the red chair
watching crystalline people,
pretending I am not waiting for you.
Back to her he went
like a child to a favorite toy,
forgetting how many broken toys
are in his past.
I watch him as he uses her,
a weapon against any kind of love.
I see her, flaring tender jealousies,
willing herself to love harder.
I want to gather her,
hug her like a child,
ask her why he captivates her.
And then I remember,
being fourteen.
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©2014 Christopher Reilley
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