No Name for This

How cold is the winter in your city
In the middle of summer

Your hands serving coffee in the mornings
With that same practiced smile

I drink the coffee
I keep overthinking everything
As if all the noise could fit
Inside a small cup

It cools down faster than it should
As if it never meant to stay
At the bottom there's a trace left
Hard to ignore

And all that's left is disappointment
All that's left is disappointment

Sometimes I stop and think
I'd rather silence the voices
I smile back
I leave the shop

And I wonder if there's a name for this
If what I feel fits anywhere

I choose not to look back
Politeness feels hollow

On the counter, my last coins are left
Like everything that isn't enough
To change anything

On the other side of the counter
Things don't weigh the same