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