A yellow moon, all puffed up.
A sullen sky, the night air
still smelling of rain.

He stands on the bridge
where she broke his heart
on a night like this.
Hands in his pockets,
he stands, looking at the people
never seeing their faces.
People oblivious to his pain.

He waits for the rage
to descend, as it always does
on the nights he can’t keep away
from the place he got his heart broken.
He waits,
and waits
bewildered
when it doesn’t come.

Then in a moment of perfect clarity,
he realizes
that he doesn’t hurt anymore.

He looks up
and smiles at the yellow moon.
For the first time in ages
he notices it is a beautiful night.