Miasma

The smoke and haze hang

heavily

in the sky,

opaque enough

to hide

the tears

forming in my eyes.

Your mouth moved,

words

spilling

carelessly,

pouring

from

your

lips

as you

shattered

my world

so casually.

Ears burning

with the pain

of aching goodbye,

I could only watch

as you turned

in the misty morning,

and all I saw

was your

back

as you

walked

away.

So

it is

fine

that the smoke and haze hang

heavily

today,

like the lingering debris

from the collapse

and razing

of a once happy home.

It seems

as if the air

sometimes

knows

when comfort is needed,

even if the blanket

is made of

pollution

and broken dreams.