A pizza box on the table,

A cold piece was there.

A stale piece.

No thanks.

I wish I had the guts to say that.

But I had to hear it from you.

I knew it was coming,

But I chose to keep my eyes shut.

Shut until the sands of time forced them open,

With only a silly pizza box.

A dish served cold.

A message served even colder.

It’s been so many years, so many,

And yet I’m still here.

Surrounded by shards of cardboard.

Searching for moving parts.

There should be one there.

One, at least.

Red, soft, pulsing…

Where is it?

Did I really lose it?

And you were just sitting there,

Watching as it happened.

Can it ever be found?

The wind is trying to blow the pieces away,

But I can still see a pizza box.

A boy and a girl, in a garden.

That would never be the same.