The wine glasses stand sentinel,
to last night.
Candles burnt out,
wax cold pooled
on the dining table.
Remnants of the supper
testament to our hunger and
for each other, as lovers.
The house is cold now
like my anger.
Last night,
You told me we were over
You'd fallen for another
younger lover.
Last night my anger was red like the wine
in the sentinel glasses.
Now cold, daylight brings a clarity,
time to start the cleaning.
I'll sweep the table's items into the bin.
I'll keep nothing touched by him.
I'll then take a bath to recover and figure out
what to do with you.
You can't lie on the floor forever.