He smiles. She smiles back.
“Ride with me,” he says. And she tells him, “If you smile, I will.”
They rode. Together. Smiling at each other.
“I only want you forever,” he says. And she tells him, “I want your smile forever.”
They lived. Sometimes together. Not always smiling.
“I need time, space, other things,” he says. And she tells him, “I want your smile.”
They walked. Apart. Unsmiling; broken, in a puzzle that used to be new…
Old puzzles gradually lose their pieces
They get dropped, swept away, forgotten
We don’t mean to, toss these ambiguous yet significant little pieces
Facsimiles can be made, crude pieces
to blend into the mess
Assembled, still beautiful viewing from a distance
Their scars only visible while piecing them back together
We tear them apart, and store them away, only to rediscover, and to deconstruct again
How many times can a puzzle fit back together
before too many patch jobs distort its image
How many pieces can be lost before an old puzzle must be thrown away
He shows up in the middle of the time of her life, smirking. She smiles back.
“Fly home with me,” he says. And she tells him, “Only if you smile.”
They flew. Together. Smiling at each other, for about six minutes.
“You confine me,” he says. “I can’t give myself completely to you. I need other things.”
She ran. Parting fast. Dry-faced, saged…undamming a universe of disenchantment.
Another bandage to cover the wound
a bleeding scar
Their hands are bound by them
sores healed but not forgotten
Dead layers of flesh protecting what
life remains beneath
Dulled nerves eating away
at their sense of touch
Still holding each other
remembering how it felt before
Their grip ever loosening from the
loss of sensation
“Come back to me,” he says. And she asks him, “Why?”
“We’re unfinished,” he says. “I see what matters, now. Come back to me. I’ll smile.
And she thinks, Rip, repair… rip, repair, rip. “I’ll come to see you unbroken, if you smile.”
He smiled for four, maybe two minutes. No happiness touched her heart.
“I’m leaving. Trust is dead; spat on,” she tells him. “You aren’t you. And I’m still me.”
“Don’t go,” he says. “I’ll change. I need you. I’ll fix it. I’ll smile evermore. We match.”
The edges don’t fit together
The once crisp lines tattered as
Nothing last forever in this
Moisture corrodes us from
within, and without
Dabbing the droplets, halting the
pooling effect, stopping up leaks
Rot sets in quickly when bacteria is
left to spread
She plus He was murdered years ago, sometime between Germany and Japan.
The ghost of her life with him… of his life with her… haunted the back of the mind,
pretending to be alive.
Banished was their joined yesterday. Put to rest in peace by a charm that was cast thrice.Today, Tomorrow, and Always… celebrate a gone love’s adieu in art-full dénouement.
image by Miruna Uzdris
“Adieu in Art-Full Dénouement” by Magaly Guerrero and Jacob McClellan