Mona Lisa
 
Your hands read the book of me.
You are surprised that I know this
but I’m aware of what you are doing.
I wonder why now, why tonight,
where are you going that you are afraid
you might forget.  You turn me away,
I am disarmed while you softly steal
my weapons, my armor, maybe I
let you steal a bit of my soul.
I quietly watch the wall,
the pattern of the lights from the
house next door form honeycomb shadows,
they flicker some code I cannot decipher
against the smooth and silent plaster.
I listen to your breath, feel the broadness
of your hands, the gentle strength of your arms,
and think what words I will say
once this moment has passed. 
It would be presumptuous of me to say
that I will miss you but this feels so final.
I hold the taste of you like
butterscotch and savor knowing
I will have you for a little longer.
Even sweetness dissolves into nothing
and my smile has hints of sadness
as I kiss you goodbye.