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It
all
washed
onto shore.
Whit gall smashed
what had been looming,
and etched her soul, till sore.
Pathetic promises broken again,
cold shoulders became all-consuming,
undercurrents cut common ground in twain.
When all the things meant to hurt had been said,
turning the tides, sweeping off a tear shed,
two last words, a door thrown
once more alone
"The End"
Thank you all for your comments. This was a first time working with sepia pencils and trying to capture a face, hopefully a start, and not an end.