Tears. They fell from her eyes, streaked on her cheeks, dripped from her chin.
Her lips parted, "I don't want you to go."
My grip tightened around the handle of the small, leather suitcase, "I don't want to go, either."
She bit at her bottom lip, I feared she'd start bleeding, "Can't you stay?"
I merely shook my head.
A small car rolled up to the curb, I had to leave. I moved toward it, then felt a tug at my jacket. She still wouldn't let go.
I landed a soft kiss on her lips. She slackened; we stood there as the world seemed to freeze.
Then it started moving again, and she was left behind.
YOU ARE READING
My Lonely Pathos
PoetryA series of poems, songs and whatever else is screaming in my mind. Pathos isn't something that comes to me, but when it does, it's written down and shared for those to see.
