Left Behind

When you leaned against the doorway, I saw

how much taller you are now that you are not

a burden

   to yourself.

Moonlight bounced off your honey

brown hair dyed black.

And you smiled.

I said nothing as you skipped down the walk,

Away from the house that was once home.

Our friendship was slipping through my fingers

like the sand on the beach we visited

    last summer,

that day I searched for

shells deep in the sand and

made  turtles on the shore

while

    you and she

played in the water together,

knowing  I could not swim.

So your car engine whimpered but did not die

And I closed the door while you headed back to

a life

   I no longer had

 any right

 to demand

   pieces of.

You and she took

 pictures of your love.

And I, I could not breathe

air thick with your leaving.