the old bed with its sheets and blankets crumpled
warmed by your body
smells sweet and blue
burned candles
purple rings in empty glasses
the walls hum
reverberating waves of heat
floors creak from dancing feet
the side table scattered with half read books
half burned match books
summers clothes stacked and leaning
wanting to be worn
pictures of you hanging on the walls
that look in your eyes stained in my memory.