Reply to Linda Gregg’s ‘Asking for directions’

The end smelled like a back drop
of nine hundred wishes and one prayer.
As you left, my stare followed through
the window with fingerprints that begged
you to stay before you left.
My hopes lingered after you, in the air,
on the leaves, after every footprint.
I’m too lazy to name this feeling
but strong enough to describe it
You said leaving is a process of returning,
and returning is a choice,
and change is always painful.
Your skin scaly against mine;
slipping away,
the little scratch is how I remember you.
I say love does not leave
and if it leaves, it leaves an option
You smirk, I wonder, you leave.

LARDO