Kitchen Floor

Blood splattered, a Jackson Pollock on the floor. Glass glistens, like fallen tears. I kneel on the cold canvas, hands busy. Picking, placing, moving. I tidy. A knock on the door.

A bonfire for one

I sit, surrounded by things. Things you used to own. Photos of things we’d done. I gather them up, into a mountain of memories. Set them alight. Watch us burn. Alone. I watch the fires dance. Bright sparks reaching for the night sky. A tear in my eye. I look to the stars, watch the smoke weave it’s way to them. A chill in the air. I sip my mug of wine. Say goodbye. Watch the fires burn. The heat fade. The ashes sit grey.