He returns to a house that no longer exists.
Once upon polished floors are now painted scuff-
marks that can never be erased. Where there was
once a breath of pleasure and life that pumped

freely through the pipes. The locksmith turned off
all of the facets and the valves are now frozen solid.
And blemished, burnt walls cast unforgiving
shadows from the ashes. Where each spark

Started at her lips, like cherries thrown in embers
against his. Satisfying her hungry ardor. Watering
his eyes. His fingers that sweetly caressed the pale,
Porcelain cheeks are left blackened and charred.  

He gathers his love that fell and broke upon the ground
In smoldering piles of dust and shreds, and hides the
Warmth pressed between pages of books, Like flowers
in the winter. A place no one would look to find.

He brought in barriers, to board windows and doors,
And placed them where they needed to go. Shutting
Every window and closing every door. Leaving no knobs
and no key holes. And every time there is a knock,

He returns to clean the pile on the floor.