A CONVERSATION

She said,
“You’re breaking my heart,”
as though
it was a small twig which,
stepped upon,
splinters with a small pop,
pieces flying
in opposition, lost on the forest floor,
waiting patiently
for the next errant step
to further
subdivide until the bits
are indistinguishable
and slowly rot into the soil.
I said,
“My emotions are running away,”
as though
they strapped on Saucony’s
and fled
into the night, dodging
among trees
until they grew ever smaller
quickly receding
into the all-engulfing void.

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