I sit at this tiny table
and wait
as I have before
for you to make
excuses to get
away;
to steal the tiny time
you have with me.
I know I should go,
break away
and leave
but I don't.
I sip my coffee
swirling in the cup
mixing my milk
and your strong brew.
Perhaps one day
there will be a me and you
but today-right now
there is only me.
I feel you at my side
suddenly
your face
comes over me
and once again
there is the peace
you offer
each time we meet.
That is the drug
which overpowers
each time
I
the other woman;
and we
reach across
the tiny table
re-joined
in tiny time
the tiny space
we allow ourselves
to enjoy
rarely,
this other me
that other you.
Lonnie Hicks
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-other-7/
