coffee-break depths

Standing there untouched

and growing cold

is the way I planned it to be

but then he lingered upon my knee.

A gaze full of meaning

of that thing of which we are both guilty of

stroke the depths of every chamber of my heart,

the ones I wanted to keep empty and pure.

They have been filled with anger, sadness, fear 

whirling together,

then nervousness gathered the hope which had been

lying there with each and every

unfulfilled wish of happiness.

The urge to get back at

tracing patterns along his skin

was then broken by

uncertainty, cowardness, cold and hard facts.

And I had found my weak hand holding my dizzy head

and staring.