What Now

After the click of the lock
followed by the echoes of your footsteps
I promised myself not to throw the china,
which would trace through the line of your
natural perfume and shatter
all over the front door.

I would then get the broom and swear
like I’ve never sworn.
Beg like I’ve never begged.
Die like I’ve never died,
and still find a way to make it all my fault
and you...

the innocent victim of this tragedy?
A teddy bear and a bouquet of your favorite orchids.

But I don’t do any of that.
Instead, I’ll do what I always did at 6 ‘o clock.
Feed the cat and take a nap
hoping to reset my watch
and forget this whole thing ever happened,

but then I walk into the living room and find
that picture.

That fuckin’ picture, which will rest
in some deep cave--my closet, my mind,
and my new nightmares,

followed by the shattering of my chest
below the echoes of your last footsteps,
before I throw my heart at the door
and watch it slowly die.