Saturday, 11 February 2017

Crying into a Coffee Cop

He gazed at his vacuous visage
in the treacled reflection of black coffee,
as its steadiness is displaced by his laboured breath
from his own brooding reflections.
A gulp goes down, to ease his burning throat
and then another displacement
as the tear weaves from his gossamer lash
into the bullseye of the cup.


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