Turquoise stare from an aging blond
monument-
Somehow she has retained the colour.
I stand transfixed, my jaw left hanging.
Something in those eyes is about to crack.
A tiny, almost invisible to the naked eye fissure line
Underneath a cosmetic sheath of silicon.
I stutter an unsuccessful attempt at
retort.
(What pitiful conversations would I never again suffer?)
The how and why and how longs shoot through my head.
But already the answer lies in front of my
nose,
Poised on meticulously carved, unsmiling matte-red lips
And reflecting off the hood of his matching convertible.
Her wedding ring was diamond, the band was
gold.
She gave it back and I squeezed it:
out poured all her love.