i said, "it's time." with lead in my voice.

and the photographs split into a million pieces. every molcule of the memory supplanted.

she said, "i can't, but i will."

and it was over before we could know what had happened.

two empty bottles missing the lips that had sucked on them a pair of split veins still waiting on the next injection.

not because they couldn't live without. if only it were that simple.

without an addiction to blame. we could only wait as the emptiness sedated.

he didn't say, but implied what he wanted. and the fish would try desperately to remove the hook from its lips. only to discover the ocean had no better intentions. and the life it would return to no pillows softer on which to rest.

this house is immaculately empty. and i do nothing to change it.

because the empty was always there. it's just been stripped of yet another skin.

she said, "i'm all right." but i knew she wasn't.

and i would've tried to save her if i could ever think of saving anyone other than myself since.

she said, "it's over." but i didn't believe.

because the calendar has its own agenda separate from what we are. and time always stops for broken hearts.