Out of the corner of my eye,
head tilted just so,
I can glimpse your black jacket,
hand in jean pocket
as if everything is fine and
my breath isn’t caught.
Just a little
skipped beat, and
your feet are already moving away.
I stay
where I am a dying ember
waiting for you to breathe life into,
give back the breath you took with you
when you walked past,
the wind in your aftermath
blew me out,
blew me away
From you.
But I stay,
too scared and proud to run after you,
tell myself you might come back.
Even dying flames dance before they fade.
-12/?/2011
©Farhana Jahan
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