“Breakfast and Dismay”

When your eye revolves,

From between the sliver of door and outside air,

I cringe, but I want; I yearn.

(-----)

Then gloss reflects a distortion of your visage,

The mug that’s been kissed by your thirsty lips mock me.

(-----)

I pick my head up to gaze,

For your pretty face; suspended, as if afloat,

But the morning paper’s in the way.

(-----)

I smile, and it doesn’t return,

It never returns.