Adieu (Prose)
You were sitting by a hotel pool,
holding what looked like a margarita in your left hand
and a lack of energy in your right. Your eyes were the second
organs I lashed my gaze upon, your declinations
being the first.
I disrespectfully couldn't force myself to look
away. You weren't drinking your cocktail, but your eyes
drank the pool's bitter chlorine. At one point I considered
your cynical expression a facade to avoid conversation
until I caught you surveying me, your face unreadable.
Another lingered by, a troubadour of skewed complexions
who looked far too nonchalent to be yours. I opted for tearing
his jeopardies to shreds. If I stood idle, I would
stay in your crosshairs. He played the antagonist, poor fool, and your
eyes flicked away. He was done for.
Naturally, he didn't wait around for the evening horizon to battle
you, and his sour incident he'd scaled became
a spiteful regret. It put your exchange with him on the skids. I could
see it in your language, the way you
marked me as a libertine.
Yet still, you turned against the tide I prepared
to align with you, and just like that
our future dissolved forever.