On a Placid Isle

Just like you heard
I stoon on the sands of time
in a placid isle of everything but you
I looked back at the classroom
where our hands were held
by a sturdy love--
who knew the dirty stove
of jealousy
would brew us hot destruction?

And I blame me
for fueling it with pointless words
to excuse my tearful eyes,
such anger--
but you were not going to kiss that guy
I knew, should have known--

Alas, the heavens of the past
swing by in clouds of white fumes
to say ado
with moments in the air
lost in a kiss.