I miss his smile,
his gentle embrace.
His loving kindness,
his smooth unlined face.
The way he told the story
of how we first met.
The way he held my hand
as we watched the sun set.
In the beginning it was ideal;
We knew each other well.
Our love was shared and real
I thought I’d heard a wedding bell.
But the bell I thought I'd heard
Was a toll of awkwardness and silence.
My visions of love, by then, seemed absurd.
Ours was only a love built out of convenience.
But the worst thing of all, the real pain,
was never once, not once, did I complain.
I stuck it out and prayed for mercy
to end our terrible controversy.
But worse than that, I find,
is, in the end, I was the one who left
Not the one who stayed behind.