Discontent and feeling awkward,
she tries to relax in the booth,
dangerously close to tipping,
smashing
against the wall,
against the table,
sending flatware and flat soda
in all directions.
His nervous laughter,
nervous tapping
drum away seconds,
but still the minutes drag.
Small talk
becomes a large burden,
and sighs
and moans
cut through the grease-laden air.
Why must we change?
Emotions remain,
but in place of
“relaxed,”
in place of affection
and grinning
and vows of devotion,
all that remains now is
hidden love
and painful smiles.
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