Climax:
tear-salted words
of regret, a
graceful exit from a
no-fault disaster,
bad timing for
true intents.

Denouement:
Your tattooed
gestures seem
slick with convenience, like
your words.
Bedroom and
tantrum footage flickers, 
the audio, fast promises,
desperate bargainings of a
condemned man.

Epilogue:
I wear the ashes of my
life like war paint, you
scatter yours at the
seashore. May the wind
shift back toward
your mouth.