a foible fixer
polished white pond rock, no splash
i wobble and sob

It's usual that I go out on a Friday,
but I've bedridden myself
from the pit fall in my stomach
when I realized your toothbrush was gone.

It's unbelievable to think
that just under the last moon
we laid under crisp blankets, sharing what we thought of marriage
And now
I can only pray that I experience it again in my life.

"I'm taking a test -- bye."
- my last words
before you read
the first words
that forever demolished what could have been forever magnificent

I will only ever remember
stubby thumbs or your stubborn head,
and coconut-carved ridges in your paper-white teeth;
laser lights;
my pencil
covering the cliche of a hand hovering over my body;
of those breaths with a depth too recognizable
and the inflated patches so perfect under your eyes;
just to float in a revery of reconciliation,
sitting on the concrete as I cry with a shake in my body like the break of a wave