To the man who loved you first, so natural in ways you find effortlessly beautiful- hulking brunette wisps and whipped lids blinking over nethermost eyes, luring you,
from me, away.
I barely understand this mans allure, having met him nonchalantly over only hurried hellos. To you his voice plays perhaps piano sounded notes like strings humming into the coded center of your vibrating heart. Chomp, you have bitten, your gravity has itself been altered.
Occasionally I witness you in public and it seems now as though you are happy. Shopping the grocer with him, a quick laughing set of eyes linking, sharing the morning car ride to work; even vinegary winter wind is blowing somewhere nice, is it not?
But first it must pass these windows of which I now stare, blowing so capable, so vigorously on its way, howling.