New poem :)

Untitled

Sitting

and waiting

for tall-dark-

and-handsome,

curled in my corner

like a comma

in a run-on sentence

armchair,

punctuated.

By the lamplight

I watch painted 

butterflies flit over

the reflection

of a caffeinated atmosphere.

People-watching

people give glances

everywhere.

Next to them, away

from me, everywhere

there are eyes

dotted and

across teas 

words fly through steaming

white cups.

Sitting, and waiting,

and watching

the doors,

those transitional fillers

of the story 

I observe.

What does the story mean?

A group of couched

laptops ask, and before

the answer 

is divulged,

a new character enters

the discussion.

The chapter

ends, ushered out

by a dark and beautiful

man, who

takes me through

the end.