Staring Contest

She did her best to look
Into the bluest left eye
She'd ever made tears fall from,
Stalling before she reached the right.
This was a dilemma
She had never seen before.

She was moved
By the shock waves
That emanated from his quivering lips;
She understood him perfectly,
Although the frantic yelps
That served as his plea
Did not have the integrity
To form themselves into words
Like "I love you",
That cliché end note
Of telephone conversations
That people use
When they care too much
To say "goodbye."

It is not clear whether
She stopped caring too much
Or if she just discovered
What love truly was--
Their last phone conversation
Ended with a beep;
The last word he heard
That had originated
From her vocal cords
Was stifled by the roar
Of his breathing,
Made heavy by the stress
Of forcing a finger
Upon the "end" button.

It was at this point
That he noticed her across the room:
Looking in his direction,
Doing her best to look at him,
But falling short of the line
Between the two
And remaining on the side
Where she had been before,
A participant in a half-assed,
One-sided staring contest.

He pondered the recipe
Of the poison
She had been made to ingest
And tried to extrapolate an antidote,
Although he could ultimately
Only whimper
And radiate hope from his eyes:
Blue was, at one point,
Her favorite color.