It could've been
the sweet scent

that sank into sheets.
It could've been

the peel of the red
dress from shoulder

blades, like a layer
of skin.

It could've been
black shoes

left by the door
that shone

like piano keys.
Maybe it was  

the room draped
across your back,

how you pulled
it around us,

shrinking the world
into something

we could
understand.

No,
        it was just

the hollow sound
of the closing door

that made me wish
you never left.