Our Brevity

by Hayley Brooks​

 

might have

been my failure —

my projection of expectations,

hope unwieldy, letting

joy run beyond the moment.

she was my first and I was

her interim.

 

she calculated her leave, I think,

while the bliss of being desired

crowded my body. no one wanted

me before this.

 

I wanted to be able to throw bon-bons

at the TV while I wept, something in

the milieu to hold my devastation

but the TV wouldn't turn on.