Yarra River, Melbourne – 12/01/2019

azure gems cut through the glass portal
a world where everyone appears happy

your face had begun to evaporate
my memory losing its grip on
you and your ethereal aura
but dead left-over
tendrils of you
remain in place
rotten and withered
threaded throughout my system

two months ago, you left me
newly soul-wrenched
now your visage reminds me
of those translucent hushed moments
during the seasons of us
streams of rain
forging new rivulets that criss and cross
a delta over our huddled forms
under a bus stop
the beams we hand one another
show we care not about the scene
only that one is with the other

you laugh once more, those gorgeous notes
snapping my heart taut, scattering off the walls
of the tapering lane we stumble down
lapping up all the time we have been gifted
halting every step or other
to give our other electric flashes
delivered in little mouth-sized kisses

elongated rays slide through
the window beside you
as you head nestles into its
usual resting place
my right should
and I lay mine on yours
hands mimicking the pile-up above
the sun finally drifting below
our spinning rock's navel
ending the final day
we will spend

hands drop to their sides
as the tone goes dead
phone reduced to a repulsive onyx brick
a bearer of unbearable news
stomach clenched so tight it's a ravenous gyre
hungry for all my innards
as your words spin around
the centrifuge of my disbelief -
I've met someone
I received no word from you
in almost two months
other than when you questioned me
about my acceptance of the new terms
as if I couldn't actually be whole - 
as if I'd forever be wrought undone -
as if you'd always be everything

those digital unblinking eyes
still slash a path through me
carelessly cleaving
until they have traversed
this heart of darkness
yet this time
rending those dead coils
wrapped around and through
my heart and lungs

I can finally breathe

you stun me
you always have
maybe always will
the photographer capturing
this beauty in faithful facsimile
cemented in colour

but as radiant and exuberant
as you look and are
I no longer see
the woman I'd loved
instead I find
a stranger
borrowing her face.

This piece was written in April 2018. Lot’s Wife accepted the piece for their print edition – Issue 1, 2019.