Chains.
The chains
holding me sane distort
and break
at this time of day.
Memory seeps
out of sunset and turns
my heart
red to rusted yearning.
As sad sheds
its skin regret finds ways
to draw my
mind steadily backward.
After you,
ready-packed, told me
goodbye it
began to rain empty.
Shoulders
must bear the resultant
ache after
the name-calling palls.
No more
can be said about miss
than tears
at sunset\'s insistence.