I can’t paint, my words,
like a brush, depict
how I see you.
Your eyes, almond shape,
glare at me as I walk by,
content with letting me leave.
Those soft lips, usually turned
up, slope down, “see you
later” pushes it’s way out.
That face, a window,
your thoughts, clear in view
say, “never again.”
My last strokes, your shoulders
slouched, hands out of view,
body leaning away from the door.
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It is tough saying good-bye, even to someone who did you wrong. Written in 2011.
ianrosshughes 