there is your smile,
plastered like a stain
upon the sky.

to see it,
all i need do
is just look up.

but looking up
hurts more than many wounds.

and so by choice,
i go about each day
looking at pavements,
avoiding puddles,
bearing this unbearable…

because you are now happy,
and i should be
letting you go.

the smoke still stings
and brings tears
to reddened eyes,
it catches in the throat,
and elicits protesting hacks
from overworked lungs…
the heat clings
the sweat and grime,
commingled, they plaster whatever remnants
of clothes upon your back,
and all around you,
this rain of ash,
this rain of unsnow,
uncold and unwelcome,
dissolving at the touch of fingers,
of tears,
is all that remains
of what once was
a pristine offering
of love.