The Lemon Yellow Lightbulb

You left at the first flicker of dawn as the pioneering rays of Sun diluted the chaotic dark of night and the morass of words exchanged. I would have, if not for my dead legs followed, at least crawled but you had gone before, and returned. Dragging my cold body toward the switches I should have considered you lost, but time is an endless breeze that blows over the ghosts of steam avenging that which our tempers kill, and leaving in its wake, just the regret of those two words that needn't have been said. I should have considered you lost even as my stomach rumbled in angst, silenced by the cool dread of the sight of the idle lemony shade on the doorway without a singular shadow to break it nor even your voice to let me know I shall have you with me tonight.