what evidence
remains –
a ring upon my table
the faintest scent
of smoke
within my hair
a shadow burned
from down the hall –
edges I can’t see
reminders
of a lifetime
everywhere
poetry
fills my bed
begged you once
to leave
I’m not the same
nightbirds nest within
weightless
as a memory
familiar discontent –
dust collecting
just beneath my skin

. . .