on endings

and—

time
(itsoveritsoveritsoveritsover)
stops.

there

are
tears
in
your
eyes,
mascara
smeared

you
cannot
bear
to
watch,
to
do
anything
but
stare

unseeing

they say
that giants
fall harder,
and we
fall to
the ground

her head
in her
hands

how to
reckon with
utter defeat?
the loss
of the
chance—

the one
burned for
loved for
worked foot
and hand
and mind
for

the one
which disappears
fully and
totally in
the blink
of eighty
minutes.

the world
hurts, overwhelming 
all, an
aching, gaping
wound.
 

and—

(life moves on.)

old wounds will scar deeper
in reminder of all gained/all lost

all that could have been will
remain in empty bus seats,
ribbon, and dyed hair.

(grief never fades, only grows more distant.)