The ebbing light in your eyes
had prophesied this moment
years ago, but I did not

listen; like god I refused to listen
and within the infinity before
I drop

I realize I am concave;
I grow suddenly aware
of the hollows of my face,
the cavities in my spine,
and the miniscule breath-eaters
littering my skin like dust.

I was not designed
to know you; the forever onward
of nature did not intend
for me to hear you say

you do not want me.

Monica Beaujon is a twenty-year-old college student, majoring in English at the University of Wisconsin. In addition to writing, she loves hoop dancing and painting.  Her poetry has appeared, or is forthcoming, in the magazines Viewfinder and Lady.