routine

I make my bed

smoothing out the creases

of where his body lay

his scent more stubborn

I wash my face

from all his untruths

which cling to my eyelashes

like morning sleep

I clean my nails

from his fragments

the doomed Lady

washing, rubbing, erasing

I sweep the floor

collecting his tears

like pearls in my hand

from a broken necklace

I extinguish

the gleam of his eyes

with thumb and index

snuff

out goes the flame

Reviews

[Ufi Auttorri ~ Amy C. T..]

Excellent. It has... possibilities. Why is he crying? Did she leave? Or, is she just imagining it to be that way? It has a sense of sadness with a resilient and resolute determination with just a hint of vengeful finality.