Until

In beauty, grace, and wickedness
she was unmatched. Her stride and her stroke
and petaled urgency, a hibiscus
among roses. To know that I forsook
the pandemonium of her heart and eyes
for cardboard looks and unreflecting faces
by dint of cowardice, hypocrisy and lies
condemns me, yielding only traces
of her: a headband orphaned or a birthday gift
but not an image, not a letter penned--
shadows of shadows to verify the rift
between us, no loving voice to urge us to an end.