Day before, I received a red chocolate box,
there at my doorstep.

It's like I was the bird waiting for a worm,
and it was there
feeding my neediness.

The box was almost the colour of his lips
and it smelled of him

All of this was
it was like a book
Only, the pages weren't inked with blue

I didn't open the box
till the time I felt
was an August gathering
I kept delaying it.

I never really wanted to open it
I'd br destroying a thousand reds of our love
if I did

Days-the box changed its odour
like my face's colour on a winter day
it grew pungent and grotesque

The scissors to cut our ribbon readied
I opened the box
and there
in a red box of chocolates
lay a dead red heart