she drinks from a cup of hearts
a forgotten Valentine
bought years before
when our marriage was fresh

she smiles through wine-soaked lips
her eyes blue drops of fire
wide with pain glancing occasionally
to the wooden box behind the nightstand

in the next room our three-year old
turns and fusses in her sleep
the last shimmer of
our dying love

inside the box a stilled child
a shadow of pictures and clothes
remnants of a baby lost with another man
who suffocated her with his hands and his love

when she leaves us for him
I break for her
my pieces scatter in
another box for another love