Your body broke the afternoon shimmer into a million pieces

And your smile cast the light aside,

Making way for the focused beam that hit my chest.

Then the pieces of my ribcage replaced those of the shimmer.

(Concrete bone on gossamer heat)

My heart fluttered out into the air and dissolved

And its fragments joined those of my bones and of the light.

(An autistic collage of the arc of emotion over the cross of matter)

A million crimson butterflies contrasted with the pale walls around us

And descended upon the broken bars of their cage

To die amongst the ruins of that which set them free

Because their wings had been sliced mercilessly by the grains of light

That flew back together, forming a seamless canvas.

(You were the one holding them apart, and you were gone)

Without my heart, I walked away from the setting sun that swallowed you

And all the people around me stared at my exposed, broken chest

As I fell amongst the bony ruins and the dying butterflies with a smile on my face.