coffee

I've traced your footsteps ten times now
and lost count a year ago.
your number isn't ringing in my head anymore,
another boy does that now.

does it hurt to know that you're not under my skin anymore?
in this town where the gossip comes with free coffee

but I wish you would call me still,
because these long nights are full of endless wonderings
and the new boy just doesn't have your eyes
and his shoulders aren't the same.

the restaurant is a five minute walk from my mothers,
and I don't mind sitting alone at the bar anymore.
I can't decide how to label you in my life (maybe I won't)
in this town where the gossip comes with free coffee
but you wake me up in the morning, still,
and I'm glad I don't drink coffee