Subtle your eyes suggest –
a hint,
a glimpse
of adoration.
A grin,
slyly tucked behind your coffee cup,
peeks from behind
to see if it's been discovered.
But the dance in your eyes
is naked before me,
unknowingly bearing your secrets
as I am captivated by the show.
The eggs on my plate
are only a rouse to keep me,
a promise of a breakfast
to lure me to remain.
The train tracks thunder
beneath my quivering knee,
the one I can sense
you long to touch.
I steady my glass of juice
as the scenery rolls past
fingerprinted windows
and bloodshot eyes.
The tracks will eventually end
and we will foot separate paths.
Why do you pretend
our hearts won't do the same?
I see beyond the attempt
to extend those delicate moments
we've unexpectedly shared
on this harsh iron highway.
Reality is but a few hours away.
My emptiness won't help me
finish my now-tasteless bacon.
Yet every time I look at you I see it.
With one smile
all my questions have been answered,
save one –
“Where will you be after the tracks run dry?”
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