RADIOACTIVE DECAY

Your eyes were the hearts
of two crysanthemums
welling blood.
Your hands fell like cages
around my chest.

In the darkness I split into
the past, present,
and future-
three lives containing you
and the brush strokes of your
love.

Somewhere a traffic light
slid with slicing fractals
from red-yellow-green-
out of order and unnoticed.

The moon snapped my heart
like a dry bone on Thanksgiving.

That was the summer I realized
I could decay like Plutonium-
silently, chaotically-
into something I had never been.