It was the afternoon of the next day

and on receipt of my letter (“It is with regret

I must inform you that I can no longer…..”)

you uttered the words “I am crushed” and

I too was crushed and smashed and splattered

against the walls of my known universe

its stars scattered like tiny jewels hurled

against the wall of a boudoir in a novel

by Constance Small, queen of timeless romance.

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