It's raining in my hallway
and only yesterday I removed
my skin from your raincoat.
The dumb walls now stare
at each other
with your portraits
hanging on their drippy chests.
Your charcoal hair melts
flooding the glacial cheekbones
and messes up your lips.
I wonder how a little stain
on your shirt
used to make you irate.
Now your waterlogged selves
are hanged in my hallway
being muddy from head to heart.