The Brick-Walled Café

Tears come so easily
Abundantly
Thinking of you

Sitting in a brick-walled café
With cheap prices and mediocre coffee
Distracted by thought

Immobilised by low-level ache
Not so strong as to make me scream
Yet poignant enough for my heart to curl

By the pain of not knowing when,
Not knowing how,
Not knowing whether

We will get to be.
Don’t know what I want
Just know I want

Your touch to be real, not imagined
Our eyes to rest in meeting.

To hold your hand,
To rest your head,
To fuss your hair,
To paint your face,
To be caught by your glance,
To watch you play those strings

For space and time to be on our side.