It breaks my heart, she’d said that day.
But it’s a heartbreak I’d choose.
And then gone.
She had smelled like pressed cotton
and Listerine, had dressed for executive success
but with a twist of her lips to suggest regret.
So he plays each day now,
in that same spot, hoping for her to
choose again so that he can
choose again too.
Image credit: Engelhardt Photography
This month I featured photography by my friend Jamie of Engelhardt Photography; would you like me to feature yours next? Email me some of your photos, and maybe I’ll write poems about them!