The fall of Paris

And so it is
that my hand
passes from your chest
as we come
face to face
with that which
we ran from
for so long.

Be not unhappy
nor unhappy about it.
It is what it is.
Let it go.

My smile will remain
-green and white-
in your wallet
for you to spend
when thirsting
for the memory of he
who risked all of Troy
to love you.

Think of this
as an inoculation.
Who could ever
love me.