The Lost One

She sites and writes,
pushing the pencil with force.
She writes this letter,
full of remorse.

Knowing not what she writes,
but by her look,
I read her face,
much like an open book.

I can only imagine,
her lover’s been bad.
With swelling in her eyes,
she looks so sad.

What could he have done,
to depress her so?
Of the pain he is causing,
does he not know?

Flowing to the south,
like two parallel creeks,
Her swollen eyes have spilled,
out upon her cheeks.

With a vain attempt,
she wipes at her eyes.
But the more she writes,
the more she cries.

It’s troublesome to watch,
as this pretty turns sad.
I know there exists a man,
failing to appreciate what he had.