Your silken tie, around my finger
A half-opened envelope, longing, stirred,
I dance in circles around the fire in this absurd skirt,
 stirred by the breeze that comes through
the shattered, misty windows
our yellowing, bare, chipped walls.
Now the room stinks of your dog's urine
outside
The train's whistle carried on the wind
like you
Would carry her first child on your back.
Your idea of
me
on that table
lies, rests broken beside the equally broken fountain pen.
The burnt wick, the blues radio, the black, shrivelled rose
My hair strewn across
your shoulder
I stand
you are
between you and I
In silence
in smoke
Scratching away the expiration date
Wanting, kneeling, praying
to forget
just this once
(I think of you)
more.