My Last Visit
Swaddled by the warmth of your room,
I lay in your bed
absorbing
Earth tones intermixed with sweet scents.
They draw me into your sheets,
As if I’m chained,
I feel glued down.
I pull up your plush blanket.
It looks like fresh snow.
It almost tickles.
I lay in silence,
the airy whistle of breath escaping my lips fills the void,
I notice the taste of my own mouth: metallic.
The hip-hop poster covered walls
Now bare,
reveal pale plaster.
Lipgloss, makeup brushes, eyeliner, and rouge,
normally strewn across your counters
are nowhere to be seen.
Three knocks hit
your door,
echoing
through the room,
empty
but for your bed and I.
I sit up to fold your blanket and sheets
as tears roll.
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