Tuesday, May 17, 2011


The baked goods sat limp and cold.
The coffee? Watery.
The stale scent of burnt toast hung limply in the air
The rickety wooden tables, held up slumped bodies.
The sharp biting sounds of shattering hearts,
bounced trapped between stained yellow walls.

This was the city’s best break-up bar.
And there I sat.
Staring at you.

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