8 Portraits, #4

My last few things I’m packing up,
A week I will be gone;
And still she will not look at me,
Her eyes, they linger on

Some unknown person far away.
I ask if she’s okay —
She mumbles something at me, but
Just what, I couldn’t say

I sit down on the bed by her,
And look into her eyes,
And say I’ll call her every night,
When much to my surprise

She suddenly holds on to me
For everything she’s worth;
As though we two were all there are,
The last people on earth

She isn’t angry, not at all,
She knows I have to go;
But I wish I could stay with her
And so I tell her so

And hours later, on a plane
Whose take off is past due,
I get a text from her that says

“Have fun sweetheart I love you”

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