Half-Eaten Toast

It was over steaming coffee

And some cooled, half-eaten toast

That the brooding man locked eyes with

The gentleman at the doorpost.

Oh, icy blue and hazel green,

Together they could make the world,

Or make it stop hard in its tracks -

Eyes flutter, heads empty, toes curled.

He simply could not stop staring,

Could never take his eyes away

Could not bring his lips to utter

Everything he wanted to say.

He wanted summer days to pour

From his lips sticky with honey,

To give clovers with leaves of four,

To forget small things like money.

He vaguely recalled once feeling

Young and vicious and wild and free.

Love was cheap and passion healing,

And nothing but hopeful was he.

The days were long, the nights were too,

But only in beautiful ways,

For heartbreak wasn’t something he knew.

Oh god, how he ached for those days.

How cruel the touch of a light kiss,

How crushing a gentle embrace,

How cold are words of whispered love

That used to brush over his face

When they all fade to memories -

Nothing more than a faint teardrop

That pools in an ocean of grief

Whose crashing waves refuse to stop.

But when he saw him there, he paused.

His heart stirred from a forced slumber.

Remembering days of sunshine,

It threatened to pull him under.

Could it be his once more? He thought.

Could the warm summer come again

And chase away his winter’s cold?

But his smile filled his heart with pain.

He returned to half-eaten toast,

Hot coffee now bitter and cold,

Mocking him with cool memories

Of the warm hands he used to hold.

It was not wise, he’d be a fool.

He turned his gaze away, morose

And his heart cried out, reaching out

As love-at-first-sight passed close.

No matter the shine in his eyes

Or how he chased away the rain,

Or the flutter in his heart - he

Would not go down that road again.