| The simple innocence of a torn picture in a trash can,
and I know my officemate has fallen out of love, as I have. I see the fine corners of a torn picture, carefully torn; as to destroy it but not to harm it. I feel the heartstrings of my heart pulling at me, tugging at me, wanting me to look at the picture- to look at what it was that this person loved. Who it was. But I realize that they may not want me to look at it. And I rise from my knees, dropping my dirtied napkin upon the pile, and walking away from the catafalque. I loved you. Farewell. |