he moves his fingertips
around the rim
of the brown
glass bottle
waiting for it to sing
to him
the way she always used to

a genie
inhaling the scent
of chemistry
bonds formed
breaking
like his heart and soul
to hers

he presses a crumbling
cigarette
to his lips
takes a drag
holds his wrist in his hand
wishing it would stop trembling
why won't the world would stop shaking

smoke
stings his reddening gaze
and reminds him of the tea leaves
swirling
resting at the bottom of the broken tea cup
why won't you stay
he had asked her
again
and again
but she had left still
and he can still hear
her retreating footsteps
late at night
early in the morning
just about noon

the door slams
and he looks up in anticipation
mary rose?