The café is crowded today.
The sun bleeds through the windows,
Too golden, too alive.
Laughter spills from warm mouths,
Voices tangled in gossip and joy—
Sips of “hot tea” passed like communion.

They are full.
Full of stories, of fire, of something.
And I—
I watch from the shadows,
Wearing a smile that doesn’t belong to me.

Why do I feel nothing?

Why does the world move
As if I’m not even here?

Two shots of Americano sit before me,
Untouched.
Their black depths reflect my own—
Still, bitter,
And staring back.

I wonder if they know
That I am not whole.
That half of me is elsewhere,
Wandering some unseen purgatory.

My body is here,
But my soul?
It left long ago.
Perhaps in silence.
Perhaps screaming.
I can't remember anymore.

Friends used to say,
“You look like a corpse with breath.”
And I laughed—
The way ghosts might laugh
At the echo of a joke
They no longer understand.

I daydream often,
But dreams never stay.
They float just out of reach—
Like the memory of warmth
Or the sound of someone calling your name
After they've already gone.

I was the joker once.
Now, I am the joke.

Some days,
I wonder if I died
And no one noticed.

That I simply
Kept living
Out of habit.