You Are Leaving.

Picture frames decorate the carpet, broken glass
laying on top of smiling people.
The words hurled from you at a speed I couldn’t recognize
and blew the memories off of their chosen spots in
our home.
Around me, lay the shattered moments that I
treasure. I can barely catch my breath.
Time has froze, I’m useless.

I sit myself down in the middle of the debris,
the pain is flowing from me as if I became the Falls of Niagara.
I barely notice the glass cutting into my knees – feeding
me full of the poision, leaving me with scarred memories of
this moment that will never hang on a wall.

Moments – that feel like years – later, you are sitting
next to me in a truck. You are driving, we laugh, we stop,
we hug, we kiss. I feel my eyes flicker once again.

Then, I am home again. Hanging portraits on the wall. Careful
about their arrangement, they must be just so! I hear a doorknob turn
behind me so I turn to greet you with my love, but
time freezes with the coldness in your eyes and you tell me, once again,
you’re leaving.