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.