A cigarette still smokes in the ashtray on the table by the bed
And a lingering ring around the white tells me that her lips were red,
As is the dawn
When she is gone.
Her eyes had held the shine of a candle dripped with golden wax standing
In a post that was the only light to show the way to my landing.
Here is the sun
To help her run.
Her hair spilled its silk over my pillow like clouds do after a storm.
Then I took her hand and we locked with our faces and our breath was warm.
The pillow’s empty.
There’s only me.
And we never knew the night
Until the sun had risen
To show it is just a room
Shrouded in our myths and dreams
For only a few whiles when
Our masks hid our eyes of gloom.
When night comes sneaking back I will seek new beds, but be thinking only
Of the lost girl I loved last night, wondering who is the more lonely.
I am here with me,
But where is she?
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