Finality
#117
January
12,
1998
Standing
in
front
of
a
table
adorned
only
by
a
small
velvet
box
A
whimper
pushed
my
vow
towards
him
We
always
wore
different
shoes
however
this
grey
winter
afternoon
our
hearts
beat
the
same
melancholy
march
He
took
off
his
rosary
Distended
eye's
watched
the
ring
slide
all
the
way
down
A
token
now
suspended
on
a
wooden
cross
The
snap
of
the
box
signified
finality
The
noose
of
my
hesitation
his
desperation
no
more
As
the
final
sacrifice
is
accepted
A
dirty
little
sunset
now
gone
down
for
the
last
time
Never
a
dawn
with
this
man
Never
a
dawn
with
this
man
Another
cord
cut
from
my
body
thin
with
precision
I
feel
myself
bleed
Reckless
warm
and
thick
The
door
closes
I
watch
the
underneath
of
his
shoes
walk
until
they
disappear
around
a
corner
The
snow
flutters
against
my
window
pane;
a
weak
attempt
to
enter
This
wall
has
been
built
up
too
strong
to
let
those
little
hearts
in
Now
only
a
looking
glass
to
the
inside
where
memories
will
become
handicapped
expressions
The
windows
will
remain
closed
until
Spring
and
by
then
the
little
hearts
will
have
melted