She stares at me, or glares at me... though once those eyes were kind,
With laughter lines, I must agree, when humour she could find...
She smiled at jokes I used to share, yet now those eyes look glazed,
Long past the time she used to care... and looked at me amazed...
:
Those eyes would often look my way, just like she bared her soul,
With longing that she dare not say, or else to lose control...
But now those eyes have lost such love, they seek no new embrace...
They merely look to see enough upon her forlorn face...
Like lemon drops and not much more... instead of pearls of white,
The girl that I chose to adore and love with all my might...
Good luck ran out and said farewell and brought no wedding bells...
And without love, her life is Hell, till she sees someone else...
Denis Martindale August 2019.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem