She didn't really look at me
those silver eyes flash
and can blind,
mirage you
and make you confused.
In the long night
my mind reconstructs the day
often then
vacationing
from the days reality
thereby offering myself comfort
from the betrayed, the rejected
the scorned and the unloved reality
of the day of the one who nonetheless
lingered inside Emotions Shadow
half-face peering
behind a closed door
inside a peep hole
wondering if in the glancing
rejection can be undone
be tossed outside reality;
from a glance that would say
that she was sorry
didn't mean it
came to her senses
find out the other
wasn't really for her
hurry back
to my arms
where I
kindness in hand
would brush her hair
and tell her it was alright;
this scenario
running again
and again
in my bed-room night
I'm face down
in the crying pillow
where I can let no tears fall.
Up and pacing
phone in hand
a trembling receiver,
dial tone screaming
mind saying
don't be foolish
don't call
heart saying
it might be she
is thinking of me
and this call
produces a miracle
punctuated by
my heart filled
with a sense of our destiny
our meant to be
if only she
could come to her senses.
I replace the phone
into its cradle
dial tone dead
eyes lifting
seeing
this is perhaps
my day time dream
lifting me
in this night
back into Reality
with a Mending Sound
coming from where my soul rests.
Is this how loves end?
Is this how we move on?
I lay my self down
marking this point
as when
my healing
had begun.
enough at least
to face seeing her
again at the office
the next day.
