Departure of beauty

I was angry at beauty that flew by,
I was resentful of smiles
that waved goodbye,
and left my eyes clear,
empty of tears,
but much less willing to see

If only I was dead and dry inside

Then,
I wouldn’t keep in my gut
a tornado making love to an ocean,
a temple being deconstructed,
its sanctity long forgotten,
a flower drying up,
dying to be seen

I wouldn’t be

this sacrifical lamb,
in hands, at mercy
of life’s cruelty,

I wouldn’t be a heart that resents the departure of beauty