I burnt my tongue as I looked up
from my coffee, and saw you walking

on you way back from a day's escape;
I get the feeling that meeting of eyes
was a reality check you should have
been spared

but it was I who trembled into that
quick embrace,
I who fumbled words, and on introductions
made clear my loss of face

I who looked too keenly
as our separate ways kept walking
and you just looked at me
with the dead eyes of tomorrow

revealing nothing but my own reflection