the wretched turn,

the taciturn display,

the finger-tipped purpose,

the closed door

which she pulled aside;

sliding glass on smooth tracks,

and sideways turned,

she eased out

to the patio

where in the dark

her lover hid

behind the foliage bush

in the creeping night;

and I could only mute observe

how lightly deception walks

in the gloaming

where warm arms wait.

I suspend my hopes in squinted sight

straining to see who might

reflected be in the bushy frame

who he would be in my own long night

of what would be the happiness I could perceive

being shattered in her stealthy stealth,

in the bright eyes I now could see

greet her

just above her lingering embrace-

their clutched bodies

in secret mode-

famished it seemed

from last kiss since.

And I,

back now to the window brace,

trash my soul--

rummage for clue and trace--

of where my shortfalls led to this state;

to where she took up with lover hence.

Of all moments

none can compare to that one where

Betrayal mixes with Despair;

Betrayal's purple burning spear

searing Despair's Raging Hurt.

Of all time

none shatters seconds into eons

as when Betrayal's lunge wields the sword

which splits the Heart asunder.