coffeehouse window seat. by Taryn Dixon
there are days I
most of them are here,
in this place,
in this spot—
with you.
late night chats
over cups of overdressed coffee.
my hands shook from caffeine and sugar
or maybe it was from you.
the memories of us stay
imbedded in window panes
and coffee mugs.
I’m still here
in our place,
in our spot—
without you.
I drink my coffee black now.
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Taryn Dixon is a graduate student at Southeastern Louisiana University and editorial assistant at Louisiana Literature Press.
