The rain patters quietly on the grass -
each drop a sensitive kiss -
what I focus on while listening to you
tell me you no longer love me.
Distorted focus helps the heart
mend faster; of course it should hurt
deeper - a realization that I am still alive.
So you pack your things
except your books
and leave, my eyes still focusing
on the extreme green grass;
too late to accept my wrongs, decided quickly
over green tea sipped carefully and no conversation.