Stain

Brushed cross my cheek...

the scent
the caress
of what was thought could never be

It happened...

that silent moment between wounded existence
an exchange--of mutual regret
and understanding

The truth...

it's stained my hope
this time, the fight has turned into begging
as the desperation sets in

The betrayal...

it hits my nose
buried deep into this collar crease
and rubs my mind raw--numb

it stains
it hurts
won't wash out,

the quiet of actuality
that brushed cross my cheek

I hold back the tears so that they don't stain;
tarnish what remains, of my dignity...