Crunch.
Her heart, a broken vial
smashed under his combat boot,
oozes "it's cool, we can still be friends"
all over the tiled floor
of the diner where they met.
He buys her a drink,
because it's nice.
but because it's 'nice',
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.
She insists on paying,
tells him to keep the change,
and screams through the tacky saloon-doors
as shame sneaks over her eyelids
and down her cheeks. |