Fabiola burned every blue sweater 

thinking it would erase the fabricated pain 

that was her gift to wear 

woven plastic twisting into drunken flames 

folded paper curled and crinkled 

Her sunken spirit wrinkled 

yellowed blush and then subsequently black 

Ashes into ashes 

Dust into dust 

We all fall down 

Look what she had found searching 

Wet lipstick on his Khaki jacket, 

pucker prints, 

orange in her scarlet apartment, 

pacing the hardwood floors 

She turned pink when he knocked 

She opened the door he'd walked through countless times, 

 laughing in a long moment of insanity, 

rambling a Creole slur in contempt,  

freckled-faced

burned by matchsticks 

She left a hole in his story with her weapon 

It lay motionless without grief,  

ghostly and insipid 

Her last kiss had no regret 

Fabiola burned every blue sweater 

thinking it would erase the fabricated pain 

that was her gift to wear