Dirty footmarks marble the milky white carpet,
even with the muddy soles(souls) left untied at the door.
They sit motionless eating dinner with empty plates rested on a table top so dusty it leaves a print when it's palmed.
Dissolving,
Decaying,
Love deflating
in a shabby room,
walls inching closer with every word unsaid, inching closer til their dead.
Renovation is no longer
in question;
Cleanly on the outside, polluted within.
Their pure eyes fog blacker than
burned, leather skin;
Recycling into a ruddy shoe, only to repeat its course in that shabby room.