She walked with grace.
She talked with a voice as sweet as honey milk.
When she cried I felt every tear hit the ground.
And when she laughed, I knew I was where I needed to be.
Then she changed.
She began speaking softly where I could not truly hear her.
She turned away from me at night and left me cold.
Her white lies turned to pure fallacies
And her eyes became deceptive.
Then she left.
She said she had eyes for another.
And had, for a while.
She claimed it wasn't fair to me
and I agreed with her.
I think about her every day.
The way her touch sent chills through me.
The way her eyes poured poetry into my empty hands.
And spilled between my fingers.
My room still smells of vanilla.
My guitar still sings your praises.
And never stops crying the blues.
I hope to forget you. Entirely.