dining room table I

there it was. burning.

there we were, standing.

it was nighttime out,

and we had just finished packing up

both of our lives.

the truth is, we were both unhappy,

but our dynamic did not allow for dialogue.

he was moving into his empty parents’ home.

he had found the unforeseen just a few months prior

on the floor.

the image will reside within

until his heart stops beating.

my past, adversity — deceiving and dishonest,

nowhere else to go.

he felt guilty

we weren’t close enough

to live harmoniously like the others.

but that would never change.

we both bore heavy burdens then -

with weights so contrasting,

they shattered the potential of

healing what bond was left.

we watched the smoke go up past the

backyard trees and into a dark, empty sky.

we stood in silence

for a long time.

and watched our dining room table burn.

E 10th St, 46219