These words run
                        down
                            my
                              arm
Like ledger lines, bearing notes
between lovers
and friends
or both.
But no matter how the tune starts,
it always ends the same.
Final chords struck in empty apartments
filled to the
                     b
                  r
              i
         m
with burned out passion.
Just like the light bulb in your bedroom lamp,
that you've been meaning to change for 3 days.
At the end of the day
all that's left is the thrum of the ceiling fan
you forgot to dust two weeks ago.