You once stared into my eyes like you now stare into your phone,
We would love, share and comment; but now you can do that alone.
I remember waiting hours for a corner table and now anything will do,
It seems like there’s just one chair on this table meant for two.
Our arch nemesis – the waiter, was always seen as an interruption,
Today he waltzes by and serves us a welcome distraction.
When did your Instagram replace me with pictures of gyrating food?
How long have I been sitting here on this table meant for two?
You once called me your mystery novel but I feel more like this menu card,
Exciting me with slight indulgence – only to be quickly discard.
So, here we wait in a sit down restaurant for our fast food meal to cook,
How we wish there was just one chair on this table meant for two.
As our cutlery speak, we silently wait for this tryst to be over,
Out comes the cheque, and I read the price of being alone and sober.
My love is like this candle light, at some point it will be through,
Stains of neglected wax will grace this table – that was once meant for two.
Leave a Reply