if i close my eyes real tight
till my eyelids wrinkle prematurely
and furrows spread across my brow
and my mouth presses against itself
in a desperate attempt to keep the halves of my face
from caving in on one another,
i can almost conjure the image of
the last time i saw you smiling.
it was as she walked away from you.
you were watching her leave,
and the expression on your face
was of the most exquisite pain i have ever seen
backlit by a joy that prevented me from eating
for months afterward because my throat closed over at the sight.
i don’t know if i hate her more for being
the one to brighten your day
or you for not letting me rise high enough to.