My brittle skeleton has become an abandoned motel and you were its last visitor.
Why didn't you enjoy your stay?
I made a trail of light kisses across your forehead like spreading mints on your pillow in the morning. I peeled back the curtains to let rays of light color your cheekbones and swept your troubles underneath the wooden sofa legs.Β Β
A motel's only guests are faint silhouettes of those passing through. How did I believe you could be permanent?
I have cleaned every inch of this haunted cottage, but when I dust the mantel of my shoulder blades, I only find your smudged fingerprints.
I cannot scrub you from my skin. It flakes, it scars, but you are still embedded there.
How did I mistake touching for feeling?
A closed sign now dangles around my neck This vacancy can never be filled.
Poem 1 of my Poetry workshop class. The prompt was to write a poem with the audience of "you", the speaker is "I", and it must pose at least one question.