The chipped mug coffeestained

The chipped mug, coffee-stained,

slipped from the counter's edge.

I saw it go, a slow-motion arc,

my hands just froze.

The light caught the glaze,

a brief, bright flash of college days,

late nights, cheap coffee.

It turned in the air, end over end,

like a secret falling.

Then the crack.

Sharp, ugly on the linoleum.

Dark liquid spreading, a stain

that matched the dent.

And still, I just stood there,

watching the pieces.

Too late to grab, too tired to try.