Empty Coffee Cups

Empty Coffee Cups

By Allie Marie

You only talk to me

when we’re alone.

The speakers have broke.

There’s no more phones.

We tell tales of the front

of our hands.

We don’t know

of any plans.

Maybe, this is dreams.

Maybe, it is fantasy.

We hold onto blue eyes

and what they say we’ll be.

Tables adorned with empty coffee cups.

We’ve got our fill.

If we don’t say more now,

we never will.

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