our joy trapped in the frame.
a last moment-
maybe our very best.
the final verse
in a love song
we should not have begun.
the dust floating down the shafts of light
and the hum of the coffee pot upstairs
should have been the only witnesses
in the morning after haze.
still tangled in sheets and sleep.
you never would have heard the third step's creak;
the only whisper
of my should have been goodbye.