Doors slammed shut,
a voice raised in decibel,
“You hit me!”, she screamed,
and vanished over the threshold.
He watched lowly from the street
as her image lost all focus,
and pictured his world without her
in front of his camera’s lens.
Incoming calls rang,
but none he wanted to answer;
not adding up to the digits
equating the label he longed for.
He tried many times to reach out,
but he was blocked, forbidden,
like an evil New Orleans entity -
a disgrace after heartbreak.
Months went by in his loneliness,
eye’s swollen after fighting with tears,
wearing his own abuse, but still,
discounting the wrong he’d done.
Down to his last ounce of pride
he bellowed out, “I’m sorry!”, but,
was it an apology to himself, or,
was it that he’d wished she heard it?
- Jg