What Melting Feels Like
I’m at a coffeeshop.
There is a faint smell of burnt bread in the air, dissolving in the smell of coffee and conversation.
But I’m here and wearing his hoodie,
It still bore a faint scent of freshly laundered clothes,
But that too, will become another scent that mixes with the coffee, burnt bread, and conversation.
I am hungry.
Everyone else was, too, but all of us were quiet
There is so much work to do,
The cheesy lines and the bad poetry,
A story of a ghost searching for his love.
The conversation continues,
Banter left and right
But I sit at the center.
There is no conversation in the center.
Only me and my laptop,
My tongue held and my body bent.
His hoodie is so big it must have swallowed me up,
Must have been magic,
For I am now invisible.
I won’t say that I’m a wallflower,
But it is starting to feel that way.
I won’t say that I’m envious,
But I envy the way conversation flows so easily between them,
Left, right, but never center.
I dissolve away into a puddle of salt and I say
“Guys, let’s get back to work.”