Leaky Faucets

I cannot turn the love off
like the dripping faucet
in my Caribbean blue bathroom.
No matter how tight I turn the knob to the right,
water always leaks through.

You say you need time
to figure all this out,
to see if you can live up to the words
uttered from your mouth over a month ago -
promises made of forever
that quickly were forgotten overnight.

You said no matter what,
but the limitless boundary
has found its limit,
and I cannot make it stop.
I cannot take back any words
said by you or by me.

Now I just sit and listen,
Cross-legged on the tile floor,
to the ever present drops of water
splashing against the hair-dye stained sink drain,
and I wonder if the pain in my chest
will ever stop the way you
found a way to stop caring
after swearing on your Tabby cat
the love would not end.

I want to stuff the pipes with bath tissue,
cement, anything to make them quit;
clot them and my heart until they do not trickle an ounce;
make them back up until they explode
like the toilet trick in Goonies;
until they cannot leak anymore,
until everything is quiet again,
and there is no drip left.

But I do nothing but sit and listen
to the water seep past metal screws
to the love dribble past the aching thoughts
and I wait for it all to stop.