The morning after.
Against glass I stand,
a face of quiet consternation.
And consideration.
Duck the blade
beneath the surface,
again and again.
What kiss bestowed
on this layer now shaven clean.
In the room, a faint impression
of residual heat.
Her supple form against
the sheets. Now gone.
My reflection calm yet pale.
Perhaps the light above
the gilded frame.
My soul content, mind occupied.
My heart stood still. Empty.
Silently she shut the door.
Accompanied by my essence
seeping through the keyhole.
Ducked once more, the blade removed
all trace of a final kiss...
bestowed.
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