Coffee Shop Sessions

It was close to the time we arranged to meet
here on our favorite park bench,
the one that overlooked the town green.

I sat with a view of passersby,
taking a glance at my watch
every once in a while.

It was any moment now,
the ripping away,
the bandage stripping off.

We didn’t need the words,
we both knew it had come to this.

You walked up with a carefree smile
and an ice cream cone
to smooth out the tone.

Your tongue rounded the ice cream,
like the times it used to do the same to me.

We couldn’t get back to those times,
before we hurled hate and indifference,
before you threw the suitcase into the trunk and disappeared
but returned to say ‘it’s all okay, it never meant anything anyway.’

Here we sat
with an impending implosion of my heart
while yours left months ago.

I turned and asked for a bite,
as memories flashed recalling bites taken
from your ears and down your neck,
lustful moments we’ll never get back.

“So, this is it?” I asked already knowing the answer.
“This is it. It’s all okay, we’ll be fine,” you replied.

Your words were empty,
spoken as if you had already left,
to reassure me
that I’d be fine,
but you had already sailed on
and this was all formality.

“Okay… okay. I’ll be fine. You don’t have to…” I insisted.
Your eyes met mine,
cold but still with a bit of care.
‘Are you sure?’ you persisted.

With a nod I pulled the ice cream from your hand,
swirled my tongue around and tried to replace the image
where it knew it ought to be.