Finger sandwiches and black americano,

She watched others in the little high-street bistro

Aloof and from a distance,

A sort of elsewhere, nowhere, socialising.

She checked her phone screen,

The picture of the young man

Still unchanged from the last time she checked

Just a few moments before,

There were no missed calls to return,

No texts to reply to,

She lingered for some time 

Peering at, and caressing her phone

There were still no texts.

Between delicate bites of egg and cress sandwich

She warmed her hands inside the deep pockets

Of her camel-coloured cashmere coat.

She sipped her americano slowly

Her glasses steamed from the coffee’s heat.

Just then, a phone burst into a merry tune

She turned her phone over quickly to look,

But it wasn’t for her,

In the corner, two girls sat, giggling

As they read their text, on their mobile.

She finished her sandwiches,

Dusting the breast of her coat

As if to expel wayward crumbs, 

There were none, she was immaculate,

Smooth textured facial skin 

With red seductive lips,

Her hair had been coiffured, beautifully,

Manicured fingernails had a luxurious sheen

That reflected the spotlights in the ceiling

Her coffee was now also finished

She pushed her cup away from herself 

across the little square table,

 

No one had rang

No one had texted

No one had come

She sat alone 

 

I watched her as she sat in our favourite spot

But from a distance

Elsewhere unsocialising

I checked my phone

Fifteen missed calls 

Fifteen unread messages

Like her coffee

Our relationship was also finished

I pushed her away across my mind

Into the dark recesses

And walked away, unseen

She still sat alone