She’s discretely picking herself up
yet again.
her toothbrush is in the front pocket
of her ripping knapsack
her necklace
refastened around her neck.

he’s still holding on to
her vintage
beach rock CD.

someone will always walk away
with something that wasn’t theirs.

the look in her eyes
when she was trying to drive,
was exhausted by the streetlights
and repressed remnants of
secretly sought after destruction.

she and her passenger
were separated
though verbalized indignation
seeped into
timid toleration.

he’s god knows where
touching who know who
it took three whole days
to move on.

She’s not strong
she just knew he was wrong
and lost in a throng
of undesirables

left overs in Styrofoam cases
with their names carved out
are shoved to the back of the fridge
silent and molding
like unspoken words
hanging their mouths.

it’s the mid-afternoon
and he couldn’t be bothered to wake up
before two.

she slipped out of his grasp
and dangled off the porch
in an overcast lavender blue.

back inside
the wood floor gives way
to her moon beam knees
and she loses perception
in the imperfections
of her dreams
and realities.


c.m.
7.15.14