My tears well up, blinding me,
by Heath Harrington
then fall thick upon the cardboard.
The box is flecked wet.
It is the last, it's over. The tape screams out
as it speaks for me. I use a black magic
marker on this, the last of the boxes; its sweet and sour
scent fills the air. I mark this one fragile. A weight
perches upon my chest waiting to devour any breath
that may be left under my ribs. A burning darkness
dwells there now, after seven years
of smiles and laughter. Divorce comes,
I see you bright and shining,
Flush with fresh infatuation,
Beaming beautifully as before,
Chasing rainbows and catching radiance.
once My golden angel glowing
with my adoration. My friend, my goddess, my lover.
makes the rooms canyons,
Echoes of laughter and passion
Bounce on empty walls where
smiling faces once hung.
The dust of shattered dreams coats
my parched skin: justice from the gods
to Idealists and Romantics.