You broke me, Alice.

When you left,

when you departed this world we once knew so well,

when you said,

"That pack of cigarettes is NOT going to buy itself,"
and you walked out the door

left slightly ajar

– you had no right to do that!
Bugs could get in.
Why did you do that?
Why –

when you escaped our happy home,

never to return,

you blasted the better part of me.

I missed you
and raised armies to find you:

armies of alcohol,

armies of arguments,
armies of anachronistic assholery,

all to no avail.

I remembered you,

and imagined you back in my world
where things were right
before you left

and I thought someday
imagination might be fulfilled.

I mourned you
and continue to

to this very day,

you wonderful will-o-the-wisp. .

When you escaped my view,

when I looked out the window
and could no longer see you,
when the glass shattered, Alice,
I was shattered, too.