
We talk about our views on war over pancakes
The word inevitable rests on your lips And it’s saved for
coffee refills
And the current climate of Europe
We share stories of our past lives and glances over the syrup selection
Your eggs are sunny side up, which is exactly how I’d describe you
You ask why I’m quiet,
but I’m too busy wondering when this booth will hold our ghosts, if this will become another meal I can never eat at a restaurant I can never frequent
It will be haunted by my rare smile and your endless laughs and undeniably my heart
, to answer you
A splotch of sticky dried up syrup pins me into my side of the vinyl red booth,
but I wouldn’t ever think of leaving anyways.
I want to stay right here for a while and eat pancakes drink bad coffee, eavesdrop on the couple behind us and talk about things we probably shouldn’t in public
Here is nice, and they serve breakfast
About the Creator
AJ
Because locking myself in a dimly lit house on the seaside and feverishly pouring my soul out on a typewriter is not available to me right now



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