A soul drunk in despair touched by an unknowable love affair; caught sober over breakfast coffee steaming from hot mugs

The previous night’s curious wants now nude in the barren reality of day

Light forcing eyelids to accept another course in lonely desire

In his pain he burns the eggs and cries until the hash browns have turned to mashed potatoes

Then sits before me, fork unsteady, eyes dodging intimacy, choking on biscuits and gravy and trying to smile through unrelenting torment

And I’m trying to swallow my broken heart

- Lisa Olivas