Your coffee rings still
stain
the kitchen counter.

Pinned maps
of the vacation
we never took
         hang
                             crooked
  now.

Our pictures on the wall.
Shrines
to what we once
were.

I hold your forgotten
t-shirt —
this stubborn map
of you.

My fingers hover over
the 'send' button,
before
falling
into
my
lap.

Night seeps through
these windows
and your memory
burns.

Flashing
like
broken
film.