She'd been dressing-empty-tears
-Again.
And the chalice we
Shared as friends,

Now Shivers as
She eats bramble dishes
I express to noone forlorn
Memories applauding to echoes
Collapsing--

'Empty everlasting rooms.'

She's weeping upon her pillows
While the wardrobe creeps outside
To visit meadows; trees
From wence it came.

I'm digit-ally connected to nothing
Except my duvet whose keeper of secrets
And my phone which never rings-

Except to greet the winds, as all things wither without--

To dust.