• Beatriz Gonzalez

Diner Passerby



Between dark coffee and bliss,

laid a heavenly chapter within.

Suddenly,

in a way most unforeseen,

misery waved,

our brew turned cold and stiff.


You used to say

I mimic the sun.

I never knew what it meant,

but in you I found one.

Repeated boiling words

that would warm any heart.

I wish you had shown me

it would race so fast.

I wish I had known

you would leave a scar.


3 A.M. empty diner conversations,

napkin love notes I still savor,

subtle hints

of what would bring us together,

only to then fall apart.

Slowly morphing into each other,

we became volatile,

and I was too close to stand back.


Resembling the moon,

grasping everything from me,

you left, in return,

a dulling beam

a hurting soul.


Back are the days,

when I would wake up

to the smell of you and fresh brew.

Your reflection in the french press

slowly fades away

as my empty bed

mourns your perfume.


Sunday morning laziness and future plans

as we put off breakfast together.

Endless memories are now fleeting thoughts.

A bubble I thought would never burst,

a past I thought would last for long.


Our bodies meshed together

as liquids that can't escape each other.

The notion of your love

lingers in me

as I watch it evaporate.

As the napkin on my nightstand

timidly disintegrates.


Through the idyllic,

I believed

We were one.

We were we.

Staring blankly,

now I see

my psyche

belongs to half,

belongs to me.


-


Photo: Late night breakfast at a diner in the city, may 2021


(Titled Memories of Eden in the print issue)



Art by Yotian Chu