“I’m leaving you.” The words left her mouth
and slashed right into the center of his soul.
Her spite sat right on the edge of her tongue.
The tears sat right behind his eyes.
His pride left his face flat and dry.
And then she left.
She left him a note with a forwarding address for her stray mail.
The pen left her pain as the strayed male addressed their issue.
She left him with guilt. And rightfully so.
Although she left no doubt, he thought she’d be right back.
He tried to make it right.
He tried to offer the right contrition.
He made a rite contrition.
His explanations left her empty-hearted and cold-souled.
He left their porch light on.
He stood right by their door.
He left his phone right by his side.
He looked to the left and to the right –
down each street and down every hall.
She was right, "you'll miss me."
Now she acts with righteous indignation.
But she left the wrong impression.
Because he’s the one left.
He was the one left alone.
And rightfully so.
And now he’s left writing about her.