Conversations From Car Windows
The morning rays burned upon his bleak face
mimicking the ache that burned inside
The sunlight reflected off of his glasses
and traced the steering wheel
but like a fog
from a frosted night spent alone,
his vision blurred what appeared ahead.
His hands perspired from his grip
steering in the direction he wished not to go,
and when the heavy mist lightened
there was only her face he could see.
Watching her coffee swirl with each stir of the spoon
while he drank his,
staining his teeth
to replace the stain she left in him.
Knowing their past,
with each hour on the clock
they were melting,
becoming nothing more
than conversations from car windows.