all day I sleep
in rooms
where no one goes
tucked away the grown up clothes
(I should have worn)
tis all a waste
for nakedness is my resolve
shall crush the pillow to these
mortal blossoms
cushions weighted
holy remnants (of sin)

at night, I wander……white and pale
beneath the daunting sliver of half awake
eyelids drawn
(shutters on the world)
there’s no one here to watch
no one will ever know I left the room
would never shake
the sinner’s sheets
(to find me gone)

chocolates and day old sweets
news someone thought we should know
but now the print is faded
(rained just yesterday)
I’d forgotten they delivered
(wonder who has all the rest)

in solitude, I search for papers
‘lest love be lost
were not for me (the story known)
cups cracked with broken pencils
ink puddled in disgrace
 
(festering) reminders
of truth I should have written
nights before

all day I sleep
in rose papered rooms
remembered unremembering
a vision caught between the pain
and glass
is hardly known
but for me still lingers
(where no one sees)
watching for the faintest hint
I know of my nakedness