Nightfall

Poetry

the past pours into me like coffee
I’m awake but not yet alive
warmed by promises of living
hungry for met expectations
too much love making me jittery

as I dully sip, you come into view
morning sun and halo bright
I close my eyes to the glare
but there you are still
in a wash of red and orange

sitting beside you on Christmas day
eating fruit from felt socks
your gift of utility in fancy paper
sliced across my jugular
and I bled out on threadbare carpeting

I might have seen its portend
had my love not been so big
so Breakfast Club soundtrack and glitter
everyone told me love hurts
and I thought my angst was romantic

hurt led eventually to rage
and I broke things to match my heart
hiding my shame in tight clothes and pink hair
downing lies like shots of whiskey
your snores my permission to cry

I’m waiting for nightfall to find me
to lower its glinting black curtain
and replace your image with stars
touching my mind with cool fingers
so I don’t dream of love anymore

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