the first time you see yourself
stoplight red across pavement
a shattered Christmas ornament
painting the sidewalk a traffic jam
of your disjointed pieces
you write him a letter

words spiraling from your fingertips
remind him of the fragments he left
closure is an ellipses
missing two of its bullets because
you still see all of him
but you cannot see goodbye

you see infinities of freckled chest
and lips shaped like promises
against your collarbone

when you reach for the needle
to stitch at slivers of exposure
trying blind to quiet the arias
your heart still cries to his
rest easy

the sharpness dulls
the biting empty

Turn the headlights on.