cups of coffee and well spoken words, but regret is all you hear them say as you swallow your tears under your breath, with whispering like the soft glow of street lights ahead through the shimmering sheets of falling rain on stretches of empty pavement and my frozen folded hands. you've turned deaf to the sound of a crowded room that you're not supposed to leave, so you stare at the ground and listen to deep sighs and whispering, like the soft glow of streetlights ahead and through the shimmering sheets, of falling rain on stretches of empty pavement and frozen, folded hands.