Unrequited

You can still tear me open

Like an unmarked box

Wrapped in christmas paper

In the middle of may

Found somewhere at the bottom

Of a closet of old coats

You wore in older seasons

And sometimes put on

To look longingly at the past

In dusty mirrors, with

Cracks in their corners

Like the ones forming at the crests

Of your shining eyes

That look down

Dispassionately

On that sagging cardboard form

Too much like the resigned grin

Of your now dead dog

When you found her under the porch

Last christmas

Forgetting

What was left

Under the tree