the last day with her was filled with all the warning signs i had learned to ignore

the subtle swipes, the not so feigned disinterest

but what sticks out in the ramblings chains of memory is that look in her eyes after we made love

she stared at me, knowing it was the last time with eyes burning it all down, it was a gaze of finality, jarring and made me question the intensity

she just shrugged it off when i asked what was wrong

it stayed with me, haunting me as sleep took my mind

so when the next day came and her secret evacuation as i toiled away, that look flashed over and again like a storm just behind my eyes, flashes of it is over crashed into my brain

and as i drove home i knew she was going to be gone

i didn’t know about the lies, the secret trysts, the stories she was making up, the tangled web of victim she woke, the boogeyman i was becoming

but i saw that look in her eyes, the chagrin, the kiss good bye without the words, the last sweet embrace

and as i fell asleep with her on my chest for the last time i took it for granted, the gunshot victim doesn’t know the bullet is meant for him until he lays in a pool of his own life leaking out

and i loaded the gun for her to shoot, i gave her the open target to kill, innocently, no, ambivalently, possibly, intentionally perhaps

is it a prison if you lovingly crafted the bars from the moments of your own regret

is it solitary confinement if the judgement was given to one’s self willingly and with no second thought

my penance for my own sins, the look in her eyes, the last inept attempt at reconciliation, plea bargaining for one last chance to ruin it all again

i hope no one else every sees that look from her once living eyes

the look i cannot shake, the look that penetrates my soul to this day months and months later, the look of the body is dead it just doesn’t know it yet

the look of love cutting itself off of the host