half-life

half-life

once upon a time:

her love for him

was as clear and calm

as a glass of water

the echo of time

was another story—

a shattering and a quake

the half-life of her love

for him was forgetting

things happened, of course—

or things were done

with no scar of intent

but things done cut

as deep as things intended—

bleeding out all the life

the half-life of his love

for her was remembering

then things were said—

spoken and written and implied—

like uranium hidden in a shoe

after the end that lingered—

silent and radioactive—

in the bones of his hope

the half-life of suffering and loss

is always and never

he wore his face then—

the one they all wanted to see—

like a lead apron

though his bones glow

in the darkness of his belief

regardless and forever

as he told her

as he told her