On the way,
a boy says
"oops, hehe, sorry,"
the way Steve used to.
I smile at the memory,
then frown at reality.
I ask why
over and over.
The answer life shows me
is an insect.

I swat at a mosquito
that flies too close.
It tries again and again
and I swat harder.
Am I being swatted at?
Am I a bug in his ear,
tormenting in my tenacity?
I don't want to be.
I would rather be a gentle breeze
kissing his brow as he drifts to dreams.
Not a pain,
not a problem,
not something to be rid of.

As I worry about tormenting him,
I worry about tormenting myself, too.
The same thoughts, dreams, nightmares
return daily to hurt me.
I cannot make them stop.
"Stop thinking," people say.
Easier said than done.
Thoughts are powerful.
Dreams are food for my soul.
Nightmares remind me that
I know what pain feels like.

A man walks by with his dogs.
Chocolate Labs.
He is in control of his pets.
I cannot control mine.
Have I failed?
Or was this pet not mine to control?
He said he wanted to be mine,
but he was hers, too.

I thought he needed time.
I gave him time.
She stayed.
I gave him more time.
She stayed.
I handed out second chances
like single men hand out beers to pretty girls,
hoping for more.
Hoping to score.
Hoping
not to be alone tonight.
He and she stayed together
while I wept.

Still I weep.
Still I wonder.
Still I yell at myself
for my youth,
my naïvete,
my stupidity.
I gave him my heart, my soul, me...
and he broke that heart, twisted that soul,
killed me... and left.
All the while telling me how he
wanted to give me everything I deserved.

First you pillage,
then you burn.
See this empty shell I live in.
See this scorched carcass I call home.
See the charred remains
of love,
of life,
of a girl...
of a mosquito.