dry eyes

love dies
in your arms, in your hands.
what
you thought was real
was a mirage,
an ice
sculpture, not meant
to last
for a season.
the light dissolves it.
the sun.
the warmth of summer
makes liquid of the lie.
we are left
to mop,
to throw a towel
in. to walk away
now learned, sober
with dry eyes.