like the ink of midnight
her black lipstick stains the glass
not more than 5 minutes ago
she flashed her smile
from behind those lips
that left this taunting echo of her magic
announcing that it rests
on my glass of scotch
instead of my collar
a cliche’ amusing itself at not being more cliche’
lift the glass!
I’ll show the room the proof of her!
I inhale deeply
as her perfume glances over its shoulder at me
while it fades from the room
the scent following the flower
closing my eyes
I give birth to my last image of her
in my mind….
The soft sway of her hips
The staccato click of her heels
Raven hair bouncing on her shoulders
The agony that her eyes face away from me
and she is leaving.