It was in her eyes It was in her eyes when I sat across from her. It was in her hands when I had the honour of holding them, to keep them from waving goodbye . . . . It was in her hips that told me she spent half of her love in another man’s scent. It was in the summer of my hopes when winter revealed how her love had turned cold. It was her hair that fell in her face that hid a look of a secret taste. If only, If only her body could stop snitching I would’ve stayed; but I’ll stop bitching and walk away.