starbucks. a poem.

too many unfamiliar faces

too many judging eyes

are they focused on me?

part of me says

they aren’t concerned with me

but the other side of me says

“they’re staring,

judging your every move,

every breath,

every hand movement,

every leg shift,

the way your hair looks,

the sweater you’re wearing,

your vans,

your jeans,

everything.”

but then

i just force myself to grab

my coffee and leave.

Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

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