The End of Something

It was just milliseconds.

You turned away from me.

A late night biopsy.

A slicing separation silence.

A vitrification of eyes across a room.

A house housed on a fault line.

An erosion failure scenario.

A storm event.

Now,

dead decades

are malignant memories.

At times,

moments masquerading as being meaningful,

sometimes catch me out.

And yet,

a quarter of a century later,

I saw a woman on my street.

And although it could never have been.

I stopped and thought

it was you.