they were tangled up in the sheets
their naked bodies and souls shining, glistening
by the sunday sun shining through the window.

there was a cup of cold brewed coffee on the broken down
beside table
lipstick smudges smeared over the rim
a tube of mascara, some tissues
and cigarette butts
a poetry book titled
'***** pretty little things.'

sleeping next to her was an unknown man
with a chiseled jaw
whiskers and stubble
there was a glass of warm whiskey
a tie and white shirt strewn on the dusty floor

she rolled out of bed
grabbed her things and
scampered out of the room-
alarmed that she shut the door to hard

walking outside
the sun shining, glistening
looking back
staring at her
was a still object-
her home