He turns his head to face her
Eyes glimmering in the golden glow of late afternoon
His hand, so carefully sculpted,
To form the delicate veins that curve
Like rivulets towards his knuckles
Is slowly swept toward her face
Gently caressing the soft blush
Of her cheek.
He smiles then
His lips momentarily cracking
From their stiff misery;
The corners of his mouth curling up
Soft dents appearing
Forming dimples on his cheeks
She turns from him
Fierce tears burning
Fighting for liberation
Against their eyelash cage.
His lips part
And with a soft breath
He whispers his goodbye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.