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Break Up
by Ed Bennett

The cold breath of a nacreous sky
touches the glaze of my skin
as your leaving cleaves
the rib and flesh of me.
Tomorrow will be empty,
drained of any joyous nectar,
hollowed by the echo of words
wrapped in the vestment
of your insouciance.
Go.
Let me savor the infelicity,
the insensate snarl
that weakens with the days
until you no longer crowd
my inner scape.
Better to be alone,
solitary in the distance –
the steps between
your loving insincerity
and the curtain
of my adieu.

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