We were standing on the corner
Just person you and person me.
Sinking deep into your eyes
I said “I love you.”

You smiled and blinked and shifted,
Looking down and to the left.
As the world ground to a hush
You said “You’ve touched me.”

The many moons, of wax and wane,
The seasons borne, the days forgone,
Through them, conditionally,
You became my life.

But within that norm and from your lips
Shot daggers, ever cleaving,
Words like “Jealous,” “Bore” and “Stifling.”
Ripped my soul.

A harvest moon, in passing,
Gave you lift unto another.
My life stopped -- remains stopped
Until this day.

With the vilest words regressing,
Their vitriol slowly ebbing;
There’s just one thing in my life
I’ll not transcend.
  
On my last day – I'll remember
The three words which were not spoken
On a corner
On that one particular day.



Things Unsaid
© 2007     Mark Pearce


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