august
I share my bed
with a memory
Something is off,
a pale yellow
a dull white.
The dread and lingering,
the fear
Something is off,
coyly passing you by
A scent maybe
or a colour
a flickering light
or dead flower
or maybe
the hellhound
staring me down
on its leash by your side
You are going away now
but you have left this behind
and you still live here
between off-beats