He has been erased from her mind
with the surgical precision of a lightning strike.
All the mountainous connections of adoration
are now upturned and bleeding,
guts splayed out across the continental shelf of his shrinking heart.
What cosmic dream-come-true
then folds itself into brutal origami shapes
that hungrily devour every promise-filled step,
leaving behind only a vacant and cloudless sky?
Now all that remains of their surprising union of the mind
is an infinitesimal speck of floating debris.
Watch as it rises higher and higher,
pillaged by an angry wind,
that unforgiving and mercurial harbinger of a great storm,
one that promises to scatter into meaninglessness
every laughable facade of strength that
they had gloriously built into the pristine landscape.
She is still there,
roaming the hills in springtime,
speaking with the same serene voice,
exploring the newest blooms with her measuring fingertips.
Yet everything that had once connected them has been severed,
and the dandelion seeds of possibility have been blown into the wind,
never to be unscattered.
For she no longer knows
the sensitive contours of his heart,
though she wishes it weren’t so.
When the ground crashed into her head,
years were erased from her memory,
wiping away all that they had shared.
Some dreams are too beautiful
to burst boldly into reality.
They must be sacrificed,
and worse still,
we must watch as the hideous marrow of regret
slowly seeps back into the astounding fissures
that have arisen from our broken hearts.