Over coffee

He saw it then.
Discernible through the coffee mist
That twisted and curled up to her parted lips:
A sadness in a second's quiver.
He was unsure of what he saw
For her voice was the usual springtime song,
But he thought that maybe for a while
That he had caught in her eyes
A story, a dissonance,
A dampness.
He traced the contours of her face
Imagining all the tears that traced with him
And dropped his gaze on her bruised hands (such delicate fingers)
And pictured a blade
Where a coffee cup was now cradled.

The silence between them made headlines
While they both knew they were last month's news.

Wordlessly she stood,
Gathered her things,
Turned her back,
And walked away,
Bringing with her
A pain he no longer cared to heal.