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Turquoise stare from an aging blond monument-
Somehow she has retained the colour.
I stand transfixed, my jaw left hanging.

Something in those eyes is about to crack.
A tiny, almost invisible to the naked eye fissure line
Underneath a cosmetic sheath of silicon.

I stutter an unsuccessful attempt at retort.
(What pitiful conversations would I never again suffer?)
The how and why and how longs shoot through my head.

But already the answer lies in front of my nose,
Poised on meticulously carved, unsmiling matte-red lips
And reflecting off the hood of his matching convertible.

Her wedding ring was diamond, the band was gold.
She gave it back and I squeezed it:
out poured all her love.