Another lonely evening,
music blares as drinks are shared,
bodies search the night for momentary satisfaction,
leading to the climax of non-committed passion,
people leave hand in hand by their fantasy’s door.

He glances about this irony,
and notices her, so very striking, statuesque.
She is sending him a message with her eyes,
inviting him into her private realm,
and with a smile he abides.

Few words are spoken as they both know the need,
to abandon their realities.
They leave like so many others on a first name basis,
pushing all emotions aside.

She is so perfect, more than could possibly be desired.
Her body is outlined by the city night shadows,
as she stands, a silhouette in the darkness.
They come together, tension is released
at the height of passion, then sleep.

He awakens in the night
to the sound of her tears falling to the floor.
He dares not to interrupt her solitary mood,
as she stands by the window, weeping.

He gazed in wonder, asking himself the question, why?,
as he searched for the meaning of her quiet tears.

Morning came so quickly, too quickly.
He had felt her nestle up against him,
whispering something in his ear,
kissing his cheek, and then she was gone, forever.

His only remembrance of her
the sweet smell of her perfume on the pillows,
the tears that fell through the air the night before
and the question that continues to flood his mind, why?

He lived to look into her beautiful eyes,
eyes of sensuous longing, passion entwined.
Any expression she had shown
was often strengthened by her eyes.

Her eyes are now so different, not wanting, only hurting.
Forever do they haunt his mind's image of her,
as he remembers when they expelled the precious fluid.

He remembers watching,
transfixed by her emotions,
as the tears etched pathways
down through the caverns of her beauty.

He had felt such self-denial as he looked on,
wishing something could be said or done,
knowing the end was inevitable.

She had seemed so strong, even though she shed her emotions.

And so they departed.
His mind flooded with her scent,
his body exhausted from her touch,
and his emotions crying out,
for the love that cannot be,
although it will continue to survive on pain,
because they live in different worlds.

©1998 Robert P. Antonichuk


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