Coffee Poetry

The smell of sharp coffee and lingering cigarette smoke fill my nose
A form of nostalgia from only a few minutes ago and yet I'm already melancholy
The bass making the bricks rattle as voices call over top of the beats and chords
The Stars obscured by the dark clouds overhead
Yet they talk, so I listen
Staying in my silence
Because I know I don't belong
They Insist I do, but I just feel like an addition
A piece of fabric poorly stitched to the corner of a quilt
I feel guilty for being here with them and taking their times from each other
So I stand against the brick wall
An expressio menu digging into my back
The cold biting through my tights and into my skin
Making me bleed my worries and assumptions onto my Phone
In the form of this poem
But the voices inside do whisper words I want to listen and not let them feel abandoned
So I question myself
Do I stay at the table and pretend to fit in
Or stand outside and feel like an outsider
The only thing that makes my decision is the chill that claws and rakes into me, raping my body of its warmth
Which I return to the table to get back the warmth