she

would
send me
snapshots
of heaven.

i

would
pen
missives
from hell.

there is a
flow
in this
dichotomy

as
her halo
appeared
dulled

my
weeping wounds
began
scabbing

later

as i viewed
the world
from the bottom
of another
empty bottle

i would

remember

those
glimpses
into the other side
with the fondness
of a thousand
blades
in the stomach
twisting
for every single
sundered
pinion.

and smile.

a life
unlived.