A hammer against your ribcage,

and your insides are roiling with trepidation,

as the squeeze on your heart pushes out, at last,

the final vestiges of what once bubbled over in yellow

and splashes of brilliantly hued emotions and colors.

The hammer knocks a bit out of you each time,

and, unexpectedly, your fire gets doused too every time,

as the ashes begin to pile up,

climbing up past the squeeze and iron clutch of

broken promises and unrequited reciprocity requests,

to drain the last of the life-force within,

to suffocate the tetris effect from coupledom.

That hammer finishes you so slowly,

so that you will always recollect,

remember how it felt

when the love

fell

away

killed.