Well, I'm thinking that the concept has promise but I'm having trouble molding it.

Help!

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6'clock
after a difficult day.
My feeble attempt at a meal - fried egg.

Fat sizzling, clock quietly ticking
thoughts marinating in my head.

Images of you
flashing in and out of my mind.

Front door opening
front door closing.
Your voice, 'How was your day, Honey?'
l leave the spatula
and turn to greet you

Worries drifting away
dancing to the ceiling
with the steam from the pan

I gaze lovingly
basking in the warmth
radiating from your smile.

Beautiful blue eyes
peircing
hypnotic

My hands reach for your glowing face
fingers collide
with cold glass
and slide off the picture's frame.

Fat sizzling, clock quietly ticking
room filling with smoke.
No egg for dinner.

I would just like to say three things before I start:

1) I like this poem - it's a story, a familiar tale. It has some twists, but they're not obvious until you've passed them. I think it's good.

2) I'm going to be brutal - because I like this poem, it's going to be hard to find faults in it, but trust me, you'll hear them.

3) I suck at poetry - so I'll just give you my feelings on this poem, one section at a time, and hopefully this can help you in some way.

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6'clock
after a difficult day.
My feeble attempt at a meal - fried egg.

I like the way this is sounding. Usually don't read poems, but the literal sound of the words in my brain... their pacing, definitely tickles me the right way. As a writer, I'm not too sure about the word 'feeble' it seems too common, but then, as stated, I was looking for something wrong.

Fat sizzling, clock quietly ticking
thoughts marinating in my head.

Again, nice pacing, at this point, I was hypnotized. Had to keep reading. I like the word 'marinating' here - it ties in closely with the theme of eggs.

Images of you
flashing in and out of my mind.

This part is the seat of what I see as the main point of your poem, but it seems a little flat to me.

Front door opening
front door closing.
Your voice, 'How was your day, Honey?'
l leave the spatula
and turn to greet you

It seems like you're racing to get to a point here. I want to see what comes next, but I've now snapped out of the trance your first two passages induced. You're obviously telling a story here.

Worries drifting away
dancing to the ceiling
with the steam from the pan

This is a very familiar feeling, and you describe it well, and the visual tie-in with the steam is nice. The first phrase sounds a little plain, though... maybe? I don't know, I'm not a real poet.

I gaze lovingly
basking in the warmth
radiating from your smile.

Moving the story along some more, here. Establishing a warm relationship.

Beautiful blue eyes
peircing
hypnotic

You linger on the warmth here it seems... feels kind of in limbo.

My hands reach for your glowing face
fingers collide
with cold glass
and slide off the picture's frame.

Brilliant.

Fat sizzling, clock quietly ticking
room filling with smoke.
No egg for dinner.

Bloody flawless ending. I would use stronger terms, but I'm not sure what this forum's policy on swearing is.

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All-in-all a very nice little poem. Just the right length for my tastes. Please note that there was a big-arse, unwritten (IMHO) before each comment. Remember that I was trying to locate faults. I was digging deep inside myself, looking for even a shadow of disappointment, then pasting it on to the page, larger than life.

If there's anything else I can add to clarify my comments, please ask.

Oh yes, and thanks for sharing. :D

Thanks a lot for the constructive comments! I really appreciate your time. :)

Lol, I'm not a poet either.