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With paint covered fingers
The sky paints the sunset
Breathtakingly beautiful
Warming the souls
Of all who see it
 May 2016 Jeremy Washko
I can see it within his steps,
And how they are no longer in rhythm with mine.

I can see it in the absence of his smiles,
That he is further away, that I can not see him anymore.

I can hear it in the sharpness of his tone,
The way it strikes into my bones.

I can feel it in his absence in the night,
For although he is near, I am still cold and wanting.

That there may yet be something lingering, between the silence and the sheets, but it is foreign, it is no longer love.

— The End —