Last Time

I’m not sure how I feel about how repetitive this is. At first I was just intending on free writing, but it turned into another poem. I decided yesterday I’m going to take a break from all this–not writing, but the inspiration behind these poems and stories–and focus on making myself happy. We’ll see how long that lasts. Enjoy this poem. I plan to focus on prose as grad school slowly sneaks up on me.

Last Time

Her smile was enough to effortlessly hold the universe together.

Her hair blowing in the wind, light brown, almost blonde,

could knock him to his knees.

Her hands were electric, shocking him every time they touched.

Her body was synonymous with marble.

Her eyes, a gateway to her soul–and mine.

Red lips like wine, an artist’s design.

Her disappointment, arms crossed, tilted head,

dead eyes, reminds you of your mother’s when you failed a test.

Your disappointment in losing her,

like your favorite toy secretly sold at a garage sale,

makes you doubt yourself and everything you once knew.

You thought you knew what’s best, how she’s just like the rest,

but as she left, your heart bursts from your chest.

You scream come back! and her back stays turned,

your last look before she walks off into someone else’s arms.

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