blue clouds in the mirror

Walk slowly
by the doorway,
if you please,
and leave
the lingering whiff
of cigarettes
and alcohol,
if you please,
but don’t drop
jagged pieces
of your porcelain
heart on the ground
please –
it is hard
to walk
and my feet
already bleed.

You can sigh
again
and again,
if you please,
and whisper
words that make
fun of everything
that you had built,
if you please,
but take only a little
away from
my memory
please –
the paint on the door
is starting to peel.