A Picture of Her

I came across a picture of her

with her new beau.

The pain is as sudden and unexpected

As it is ravaging.

My heart still skips a beat at her sight,

And I wish I could go back a few

Minutes ago when I was blissfully

Unaware of who she had chosen,

Unaware of how the person whose

Lips she graced with hers

Looked like.

They are gazing at each other and,

Had the photo been of

Anyone else, it would be lovely

And heart-warming.

But as it is, it brings me nothing but pain

And the feeling of loss

Truly hits home.

Finally. Irrevocably.

Who knew I’d still feel like that after eight months

Of not hearing from her?

I can’t help looking at their eyes and

Their smiles.

Two young people in love,

Happy, unaware of the world

That surrounds them.

How I want her

-Need her-

To look at me like she looks at him

Just once more.

I remember her smile and her eyes,

Mere inches away from my face,

Her head resting on my pillow.

I can’t help thinking that

He doesn’t look that much better than me.

So why him? What’s his secret?

Where did I go wrong?

Does he realize how lucky he is?

Does he know how blessed he is?

From the way he’s looking at her,

I am guessing that he does.

And that makes it all the more

Painful.

And so I force myself a cynical thought:

Soon his heart will

Be shattered like mine,

One day, perhaps, he’ll be

Looking at a picture of her

With her new beau.

That day, I’ll feel sorry for him,

And I’ll start hating the new guy.

But never as much as I hate myself

For letting her go.