She sits in vapid conversation,
flicking her fingernails in annoyance
trying to avoid his blatant stares.
His coffee cools in deference to
the bright blank walls which
lack warmth and offer no comfort.
And I sit in solitary silence gazing
into the dank despair of my smoky cup.
My soul bears its stain sadly.
Night is a ravenous carnivore;
it preys on our loneliness.
In homage to “Nighthawks” by Edward Hopper