The zipper sound that wouldn’t leave

Metal teeth closing in cold rhythm,

a slow grind dragging down black plastic.

The snap—a final note hung in the air,

etched like a scar beneath my skin.

TV flickers off but the sound

clings, a clatter behind my eyes,

a dull scrape that won’t let me forget

how endings can fold over,

tight, irreversible.

That zipper zip, a cold slow bite,

stuck between heartbeat and silence,

a shutter closing on something

I wish I hadn’t seen.