unsent draft messages

To the naked eye, it’s an empty chair
Off white or weathered, maybe
Whether it is or isn’t is moot
The conversation I’m having with it is still a hoot
Or should I say, the face I see
The voice I hear
Between the waves crashing off the promenade
And the murmurings of other guests
It really is a busy night for dining
The bustle and the humidity
This table is a small sanctuary
Still, the clinking and drinking is causing such a din
I wish they’d hush so I could hear you better
Would it be rude for me to shush them?
Maybe confusing
Yeah, perhaps I shouldn’t
Let’s not indulge the delusion
You’re in my ear
For once I’ll say, speak louder so I can hear
First time for everything
I wonder what you’re saying
There’s a sarcastic twinkle in your eye
Don’t deny it, I can see
What is it you find so funny?
Okay, fine, I’ll stop hassling, let’s eat…
But when I look back to catch you off-guard
It’s the off white chair looking back
Slightly weathered, maybe
I forgot it was empty
I forgot I was…
There’s no…
It’s just me