remnants

this copy of Slaughterhouse Five

is old and withered.

the binding is no longer binding

and the front cover is no longer

attached.

it's obviously been well-read

and well-loved

even though neither of us

has touched it

in years.

it's not my favorite novel

but it's yours.

it's one of the first things

we ever talked about.

so I showed this to you

after I found it

in the attic

and I let myself hope

a little too much.

but you didn't

smile

or scold me for dog-earing

the pages

like you usually do.

instead you stood

without looking at me

and you said

in a low voice

"throw it away.

it's worthless

now."

now I stand here

in our bedroom

by our favorite window

the sun dipping low

behind the plastic blinds.

and I'm wasting time

by flipping through pages

I've already read.

and then I'm

looking for something.

I'm flipping faster and

faster and

faster.

I see a glimpse

of you

between the black letters

and my heart quickens and

I can't stop I see you I see

a glimpse of you and

I have to

"what are you doing?"

I tuck the book

behind my back.

"oh!

nothing"

I say

laughing in

embarrassment.

"just killing time

I guess."

you study me

silently and

shrug.

"well,

I'm going out."

my rib cage opens and

collapses.

"again?"

I can't stop myself

from asking.

you frown.

"yes, again.

it's just with

some friends.

don't be so fucking

paranoid."

I blush in

anger

and quickly look

down

so you won't see.

"right, sorry.

forget I said

anything."

"don't wait up."

"yeah."

I wait for the door to click

closed

and then I hold the book

in my hands

and I hear your voice

reading to me

under the setting sun

a long time ago.

I hold this book

in my palms

and I see your mouth

your eyes

your nose

your hands

your hair

your skin.

I finally see you.

and then

I rip it

apart.