Witness

He thinks ...

Half finished mug of coffee - strong, dark, almost black.

A plate of some exotic foreign sounding dish,

probably French ... no Spanish maybe lies inviting, waiting.

Just like she was waiting... for a man who had rose and left,

Muttering a hasty apology into the cellphone

caught in a corporate crime of dinner with the wife.

I watch her but hope she won't make out.

A witness to her silent ordeal.

She thinks ...

Half finished mug of coffee .. strong, dark, almost black.

The food waits too, it looks good but it can wait.

For now I shall live,

for a few moments return to myself ... stop being her.

Alone ... he has left me ... finally alone, that's how I like it.

I know someone is watching ... probably pitying

A smile inside me mocks that witness'

presumption of my silent ordeal.

Reviews

[Cody Williams]

I really enjoyed this piece. I haven't seen a poem written like this before. Nicely done!

-CW

[Tejas]

Thank you. The format is a bit prosaic but I just wrote as it come to mind so. Hope you can also review a story sometime since I am more of a prose person.