Tachycardia

I walked away that day.

He stood, perfect tragedy
                   eyes as brittle as my intentions, bending over backwards
                   but all my apologies and futures and failures
                          could not make up for my selfishness
                          such brutal wind slipping through the cracks in his bones
                   

His winged fixtures
                    too weak to fight callused hands, change in breath
                    my rotating seasons persuade his cardiac arrest
                           the regret, rising as acid reflux
                           and he is consistently inconsequential to the pain
                                   in the sad state of our gut-wrenching affairs.

I walked away that day
                corpses to my ankles.

I walked away
                 and tripped over his thinning skin.





It broke my heart in seven places.