coffee cups and smeared make-up

Mi Amore

The coffee is getting cold

the sun is coming up

the clock is ticking so loud I can hardly think

Where are you?

Her face

with its smeared makeup

looks at you as you slip on your shoes

She begs you not to just walk out the door.

But you do it anyway.

The world judging you as you drive

the children on the playground seem to be shouting

calling you a fool for thinking I won't smell her on you.

Even they know

that you're not as stealthy as you think you are

after you splash your face with cold water

and look up uneasily at your face in the mirror

as I call up to you from the bottom of the stairs

holding tightly to my coffee cup

in a valiant fight against my better judgement

that tells me to run out the door.