they have a table,

and it's theirs but also not theirs,

because you can't really own a table

in a coffee shop but also you don't really

see anybody else sitting there but them.

and what i mean by that is,

even when they're not there, they're there,

because that's their table, in their corner,

where he smiles at her for no reason at all

other than the light hit her cheekbones just right,

or maybe he just wants to smile at her because

they're in that kind of love where you just smile,

all the time.

and she stares at him when he isn't looking,

and anybody could see that he just takes her breath away

because when she watches him, time seems to freeze

until he looks up and catches her,

and then he just smiles at her and her eyelids flutter

like freshly blossomed butterfly wings

and they laugh like its some sort of secret,

this game that they have where he smiles

and she stares and then they both smile together,

like nobody else could even begin to understand.

she orders a caramel macchiato

because she likes sweet things

and he orders a cappuccino

because he doesn't sleep enough.

i didn't think those drinks were

supposed to go together until

i saw the two of them sipping

in the corner.

they don't speak much.

they don't add to the white noise

of conversation, and you find yourself

watching them because you don't need

to hear them to know.

she reads poetry

and he works on his laptop

but sometimes, she will reach out

and show him a line she likes,

but sometimes, he will tap the top of the page

she's reading and have her listen to a song

he's working on,

but sometimes, they will just look up

and he will reach out and grab her hand

and tell her he loves her, or that she looks especially

beautiful today, or she will compliment his eyes,

or remind him of how happy he makes her,

and they don't do it because there's a need

for reassurance, they just do it because they want to.

because the words feel good wrapped around them.

when she leaves, she kisses him.

it's short like a heartbeat but it's like

she needs it to get through her day.

like the stain of his lips will make

her lecture less painful.

you wonder if she tastes like starlight.

you wonder how ocean water would taste

from the hollow of her collarbone.

he looks like he knows all of it and then some.

you order a caramel macchiato and wonder if

one day you'll get a sip of something like that.

-c.h.