When she finally left,
he welcomed the quiet,
despite the bitter remorse
his heart shouted
into the emptiness.
He sat over the garden
and stared at evening petals
paling as they fell
from withering stalks
to dry in sullen earth.
It had to be this way,
he told himself relentlessly
as he went inside and prepared
a meal he would never eat
and poured another drink.
This was the best he could hope for
in a world of bartered love
and dullest candlelight
and monotone colors
that quavered angrily.
No, this was fine enough,
he thought watching the light fade.
There was nothing wrong with this.
He was just fine alone.
He could watch sunsets on his own.
George Ellington 