smiles fade
into empty couch
cushions
late nights
talking about
the future
reduced to
the idea
that change
is only
natural
gum wrappers
litter the floor

     "would you like
      a piece?"

perhaps
but offers
made on winter
nights hold
no
relevance
now the sun
exists
burning my eyes
as I roll off
the couch
the impression
of that
emptiness
clinging to
half of
my face