Seeing

See me,

she said.

But he never did.

He squinted at her in frustration,

like she was the sun,

too bright for his eyes.

See me,

she begged.

But he rarely did.

Only noticing when she first entered,

a sunrise in the making,

instantly raptured.

See me,

But he didn't,

for it hurt him to see her in all her glory.

She was everything he was not,

and it hurt him to acknowledge.

See,

but he didn't.

And only as she left in the beauty of sunset,

did he gaze in awe

with regret.