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Sitting on fake suede, the tap of rain
Drumming its heartbeat
On misty-eyed windows
Tear streaked in
Our drawn out pause.
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Teacup clatter of faceless strangers
Mingles with the meaningless words drowning out
The too loud walls.
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The world spins with the swirl of your spoon
Dispersing sweetness (artificial of course)
To soften these sounds,
Threatening in their clarity.
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Cappuccino froth still fresh on your lip
As you stand to walk away
The fall of your footstep echoing in time
To the mournful beat
Of our Coffee House Blues.