You left like words not yet spoken
through grey cracks in whitewashed old walls,
like jagged dagger lightning strikes
through the silence of a shocked pause
as magenta wails of thunder
are muffled by dark grey clouds.
You left like a walk in mid-spring,
which wandered off in flower bloom,
lost itself in white winter storms
and never took the road back home,
like the light footed descent of
the years between who I am and
who I used to be, walking down
pale wooden stairs, passing me by,
while I skip steps, running upstairs.

A sudden quiet departure
with no vague, empty promises.

Yes, that is the way you left me.