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
in 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,
laughed in a long moment of insanity,
rambled a Creole slur in contempt,
freckled-faced
burned by match sticks
She left a hole in his story with her weapon
It lied 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