I saw her
Last Try.
“I’m sorry”
(Silence)
“I had to”
(Silence)
“For you!
Please say something, constructive or destructive, to either hold up or knock down my belief that consumption of hope isn’t anything… but enough”
Cheesy poetry always got to her.
Was thinking maybe that that would get her out of this rut.
But these cold eyes, brown eyes, stare not at me but through me eyes held our demise,
And it held it tight.
And I need it loosened, but I couldn’t explain why
I was worth it.
I thought she had unearthed it when we first met and her heart set on our union that we shouldn’t be commiserating yet.
But I ruined it.
And I tried to fix it
But it’s useless.
They said.
Hard as ice
I read nothing but rejection
She didn’t even say a word to give me a hope of thinking otherwise.
Ok
Last try, I told myself, last try.
It’s a obvious that there is no room for compromise.
But somewhere in those blank eyes I saw it in a glimpse
And I knew
I felt it
I understood
I hope she could tell…

I missed her too.