May 2012
for this moment to come,
I dreaded it,
wondering what it would feel like
meeting her again
after the scream and the panic
and the photo she sent
from the roof of the place
where she lives,
this being the Tuesday
after the Tuesday
after the Tuesday
I left her at the bar,
her absence in the middle Tuesday
leaving me here as if in the midst of a wake,
and she struts in as if unaffected,
except from the stairs
where she stops to stare down at me,
her dark gaze penetrating any defense
I might have maintained,
and what was once a mere chill,
is frigid, a new ice age,
no small amount of heat
will ever thaw,
that stare so brief
and yet so revealing
as she marches on
to her place upstairs,
while I cringe
in the cupboard beneath the stairs,
abandoned.
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