Parted Lovers
We broke up at sunset,
under the wailing cry of a baby jet paddling through the evening sky.
We admired the leaking light,
our twin shadows retreating
into the lustreless night.
We're finished.
We'd diminished.
The sun, parting from the day,
stole its radiant light—
and love, too,
fell into decadent blight.
The last minute-mile of us was a story,
not of morning-glory ecstasy,
but of whispered goodbyes,
painfully polite,
spoken under fading light.
Copyright © Trina Layne | Year Posted 2024
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