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The Eyes of Earl Gray

This is a story about two men who meet at a coffee shop

By nostalgia.radio🪲Published 2 years ago 1 min read
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The Eyes of Earl Gray
Photo by Matt Seymour on Unsplash

I heard the barista call your name one morning as I start to sip my caramel macchiato. I stare at the cup as it sits and waits.

Then I saw you as you walked to the counter. Dark skin and beautiful curls that spiraled around your face.

The curls curled around his ear and eyes and hung low to cover your sight.

But you could see through the follicles. You just wanted to style your hair into a fro today.

You look lovely, like a sapphire in a case with pearls. Your beauty sticks out and shines so bright, it makes the whole cafe stop and stares at you.

The caramel slowly sinks down my throat as I stare at you. I drink you slow and heavy and thirst for more. The espresso shots hit my tongue as I observe your coolness.

I tilt my head after finishing my coffee to see what you drinking. On the string attached to the cup I see the words “Earl Grey.”

I watch you as you rip open the honey packets and stir the sweetness in. After stirring, you take your hair and around your wrist and collect your hair, before wrapping the hair into a ponytail.

Your evergreen eyes look up and see me licking the caramel off of my fingers.

Our eyes meet. Brown and Green. And the world becomes so still. The cafe music goes down for just a few seconds.

And all I can hear is my heart beating and my lips as it lets out a long cool breath. I exhale out as my heart races.

You slowly bring the hot drink to your lips and keep your focus on me. Your concentration makes me shuffle with nervousness.

Time passes. It's been 20 minutes since the last time we made eye contact. You've been reading the newspaper and I've been writing my book.

Even though I'm not staring at you, I'm looking with my periphial vision.

My heart flutters, letting me know you're doing the same thing.

You make one more order of some ground coffee then finally head to the door. Before you walked out, you came to my table and left a note on my table.

I want to wait until I finally publish my book, then read the note you left me. But in my book, I want to call you Earl Grey.

slam poetry
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About the Creator

nostalgia.radio🪲

---- Article & Fictional Writer On Vocal. Media ---

☀️ Host of the "A Collaboration of my Emotions” podcast ☀️

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