the veneer. Slipping
pieces are chipping and
falling to the floor. I’ll sweep them up,
placing them in a paper cup
drinking a toast to “no more.”

I see-through
the bravado I said
once a hero. The swashbuckling
buccaneer turned to road-killed deer!

I see-through
all the holes. I’ve crawled
between the cracks I once called
love. I can’t have myself back –
the self-made glue of all I misconstrued.

I see-through
the glossy bubble. I'd trouble
for many years. But as it popped
so went my tears and all the heaviness
of airs.