National Poetry Month: Day 3

Waiting for my late friends,
as I sit at the restaurant,
playing with my water and picking
at the fancy placement,
anxiety has convinced me to check
my wallet 9 times,
promising me I have left all my
money at home,
and that I am the fool I fear I am.

Looking around, I see the trio to my
right, oblivious to anyone else, laughing, talking, creating
inappropriate inside jokes.

As it should be.

The couple to my left,
chose to sit on the same side of their table.

Their overwhelming silence tells me it's not because they want to be closer,
but so they don't have to face the truth in each other's eyes.

As we never want it to be.

But what do I know, I'm sitting alone, waiting on my friends,

listening to my anxiety telling me I'll be drinking my sake alone tonite.

Then my friends scare the crap out of me,
catching me off guard,
squealing and giggling,
hugging and squeezing me,
telling my anxiety to kindly fuck off.


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