Sunset Sadness

You are standing by the window. A bank of clouds, a sprawling gray and purple bruise on the sky, accepts the sacrifice of the setting sun. Your back is to me, your arms crossed in front of you, an everlasting hug. The window runs from floor to ceiling and makes you look small. It used to be so easy to say I love you, but now the words stick in my craw and mix with the bitterness of bile. A raindrop slides down the window, or is it the reflection of a tear from your eye?

Bluejay

Veteran of old My Poetry Forum before its hiatus. Happy to be back.

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