her kiss lingered
upon my parched lips
like a sisyphean flashback
to a time
when hope
wasn’t just another
four letter dagger
between
the third and fourth ribs
when love
wasn’t a synonym
for a shortness of breath
as blood fills
vacuous innocence

if only
i had the foresight
to blind myself
as she walked
out of frame
so the last image
to sully the filth
of the stained glass refrain
depicting every failure
in shimmering
viridescent shame
was that sweet ass
as a fond farewell
a final vision
to cease all vision