I saw you
in a golden street glare,
tripping in your leather boots,
tears sparkling on
your flushed cheeks.
They would have been a plain red,
had it not been for the
whispers of lost mascara
that traced each tiny
line and crevice.
You were so lost
among the flashing lights
and hazy-eyed pedestrians,
pleading for me to take your hand,
hold you,
love you,
brush your hair, and wipe your tears.
Someday, I knew,
we would grow old together.
And I would never let go,
not through the children or chemo
or trials of age.
I saw you
in a golden street glare,
but faltered too soon
and resolved too late
to make myself seen.
Now, in a cold kitchen's gloom,
I rest my face in
my hands, desperately
exploring chance and hope,
only to find you missing.
Gender:
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Reviews: 109