You held your spoon like a second thought
Eyes on me, but nowhere caught
The steam between us said too much
But we stayed still, afraid to touch
Side of the spoon, too warm, too late
We tasted doubt, then changed the plate
No blame, no fight, just subtle cues
And unsaid things we didn’t choose
The table held more than what we ate
A quiet twist of almost fate
You scraped the edge, not for the sound
But to break the air that wrapped around
You didn’t speak, but I still knew
That ending starts in quiet, too