Poetry

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He clutches tightly to his coffee
Pressing it against the side of his chest
As if to ease the pain from love lost…
A sadness pours out from his eyes
While melancholic melodies echo
Through the room,
Bathing him in bereavement.

And yet, the room is alive with excitement;
Expresso fanatics make small talk
As intellectuals discuss Kierkegaard.
The soon-to-be lovers on his right
Giggle over a game of Chess
While neo-beatniks deep in thought
Write poetry on their laptops
In every corner of the room.
He notices not as he takes another sip,
Slipping deeper into his dereliction of love,
Wrapping his arms around his chest,
Wishing she were here to hold him closely…

He lifts his head but only for a moment…
Several of the girls around the room take notice,
Only to be rejected by his vacant eyes
And stone cold smile…
His thoughts are spinning now
by the mocha shots
Mixed with madness,
Sadness overwhelms him
And he slips deeper into his love coma…
For he is dead, after all…

~Matthew Eldridge

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