It hurt when he recoiled
with a battered nose,
blood smeared over his cheek.
His image blurs even
when I wipe away my tears and
all the colors merge into
awful drooling mixtures,
warm and cool but searing
my eyes like a white-hot light.
He turned
gripped the door
and rustled the glittering knob
with red-stained fingers
and ran into the bitter night.
I watched him swallowed whole,
and the cruel darkness chewed
and spat him into the crusted snow
like a set of jaws.
And even as I watched him disappear,
a wispy phantom released from
my ethereal dungeon,
I wanted him, but I couldn’t touch him
with my sore fist.
So I nursed it with my other hand,
raw at the touch,
tender upon my blood-red knuckles.
