I left you in the shoebox
taped the lid, collaged the top, bragged
I could carry you around in
that even if this heavy square held an ocean,
a car wreck
it was still tidy. clean. contained.
lid tight. decorated.
and there I was, out in public with it.
So this was me, 11:03 PM.
after the latest text
tucked in between the hours of dusk and discreet
when I missed the crack in the curb
and down we went
you shattered like champagne flutes
on the ballroom floor
I scrambled to gather
but there you were
the first kiss
the pooling blue love
the sheer worship
the times you held me in your arms and didn’t want to move
the story of us, love
bleeding out on concrete
and I was nothing again. dried husk heart. skeleton of almost.
watching you bead like water crystals
on the cold august street.