Thirteen more cycles of this sudden change -
your joy and my neutrality-disdain
that dangles from rainbow-beaded, spiral earrings
and a sparkle of hope.

Each day seems to turn the hourglass
backwards by a week or more.
This walk, this silent smile, this dark shadow that you might see
is the manifestation of forgetting me.

Maybe I'll give you all the memories back
with gasoline to burn them.
Here, use my hope to light the first,
and wait until the last one bursts.

Could be that as your eyes water,
the landscape will blur into Chicago
and you'll feel the seat elevate us
from the world below.

Or, will the heat exhaustion
convert the flames to snow flakes,
ice skates, and my clumsiness
that you learned of long ago?

Will you hop the same way
when you bowl, while you're away?
Or, will your hips swivel more or less?
I don't think there's a good guess.

But none of what we built now matters.
Your laughter has become my hate,
your ideals second-rate,
and your loyalty plain gone.

Take whatever you take, but know -
you left long ago.

The strings of my heart
are but knots and loops
and the world would stay dark
should I carry your tune.

Flies die as quickly as love,
at least the one that you gave me.
I hope that all of the above
reminds you not to forget me.