the apartment, I lift my head from
reading and catch a glimpse of the water stain. the
ran her A/C all day till it coughed, died, and oozed its coolant through cracks
gathering just above my ceiling. that was the day you gave up
done searching, you
withdrew both hands
arms folded now. I turn away, moving like
world around now fresh
brushstrokes, oil, everything like the background of old storybook pages.
a water stain;
those late nights.