Table for... who?

Here we go again.
Twrling my fork,
Tapping my foot,
Swallowing my nerves and wiping my sweat.
With every door that's opened, and the glare that I share.
I hear the whispers unfold,
Laughter that's cold.
The empty seat, sitting alone.
I pull myself together, leaving this laughing stock, only to bow my head, amongst the hundreds of eyes watch my heart-broken soul get lost in the pouring rain.
Sorry. He says...
I stood you up.

Again.