Toaster Face

The diner light, grease-thick,

caught the metal gleam.

I saw myself, a quick,

distorted, alien dream.

My face, stretched long and thin,

a funhouse mirror's trick.

The chrome held me within,

a memory, a sudden prick.

It was her laugh, sharp, bright,

over someone else's shame.

A quick, dismissive blight,

a cruel, unburdened game.

I stood there, coffee cold,

my own reflection bent,

a story left untold,

a moment never meant

to resurface, cold and bold.