It's a  perfect day,

and the

salt air

kisses your

cheeks,



and he

strokes back

your hair

with the hands

you trust

and perhaps

even love.



seagulls

circling and

it's not even

a thought

in your

head that

they might all

of gathered

here to

circle you.



as the

day retires on



Oddly he seems

out of sorts

withdrawn

secretive

in thoughts.



Then he

lines up

his sights

and rushes into

the moment.



and  his words

stand to

attention

one after

The other,



ready for the

command

to attack,



to pillage

their mark.

to leave

no survivors.

not even



You!  



right between

the eyes. He says



" I have slept with someone else"



a ******* intimacy.



and the

seagulls begin

to fury.



love is

now a chill

in your

bones



a faceless

memory bleeding

out upon

the dock.



and  your lungs

gasp for air,



and fumble

with the

basic process

of oxygen

and hydrogen

inside your

heart.



or what is

left of it.



and suddenly

your realize



your naked

ashamed

and a fool.



and he

has left you

here for

seagulls prey,



caring less

running mad.



on this  

less than



perfect day.