second impression
I think we’ve said goodbye
a thousand times, with disregard,
in non-touches of fingers to cheek,
lips to hair, eyes to soul.
This act should be ceremony,
with tears or anger, with signed papers,
with planes taking off in the background,
names taken off leases.
This thing has no defined motion.
I should have noticed as it crept up,
the moments of tenderness growing
further apart, the easy transition
from "Honey" to "Hey,"
forever to "for now."
I see in your eyes, sometimes, that you wish
to come to me with roses and “Hello again,”
with a gaze that says you remember
what it’s like to love me.
I see in your future that you will not make
a good second impression.
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written works © April Palleria, 2002