The semi-salmon hued curtains have begun to pale;
The carpet's trodden down from door to closet;
The books keeping me company are crippling, their spines
Derided.

Shimmers of sunlight bounce off water-stains on the window,
Reminding me of your blonde flash of a head of hair.

And where are you now?
And what myriad hearts have beat beneath you?
And how many lives have been interrupted by that dulcet fury?

The wind outside shakes the shutters, knowing how deep you run through—
And how you're tattooed to—
My very pulse.