Breakup Brunch Sestina

I'm scanning a menu and you're pouring too much honeyin your tea. Between us, there is a wilted floweron the table. There is a little too much brownin the petals and its leaves. I wait for youto give the waiter your order whileI chew on one of your tea biscuits. They're soft

like the voice you used when you were pissed, softand dry. Your spoon is still sitting in your honeydrownedtea and I know it will be a whilebefore we get our meal. The table's covered in a floraldoily tablecloth that I only noticed because youdropped crumbs in its netting. The little brown

crumbles nestle into its holes. Your brownlips part to sip and afterward you wipe your mouth, softlydabbing residue from the ironic mustache youstarted to grow when we broke up. Honey,you call to a waitress and she floats over like bee to a flower.Her legs are shapely and strong, drawing your eye while

I sit here, ignored. I stir my coffee and watch you watch her whileshe stirs her hips. You look back at me, dark browneyes more lifeless than I remember. You have a little flouron your cheek from the biscuits on your plate. I resist a softtouch to your face, I used to love the feeling of your honeycoloredskin beneath my fingertips. I have to remember that you

aren't mine anymore. I fold my hands in front of me, forming a "U"shaped barrier on the table around my heart. It's quite a whilebefore you speak again and there is no honeyin your voice this time. My gaze remains trained on the browntippedrose between us, neutral and dying. I was always too softon you. Your voice is at a whisper. Why can't we just leave flowers

in dirt? Our food comes and the waitress has a flowerstuck in her hair. It's still ripe with life and youcomment on how lovely it is. Your tone isn't softbut dewy and gross. I laugh at the way your mustache twitches whileshe walks away. Instead of looking at me, you start cutting the browncrusts from your sandwich. Words climb up my throat like honey-

suckle vines. I wait for you to look at me and I tease my softpalate with potential phrases. Meanwhile, my cold brown coffeehas a dead flower petal floating in it and there's no honey on my lips.