The kitchen table
Is littered with dead roses
And a spray of thistle
The whole day
Has an undertow
That belongs to someone else
Sadness is not what you meant
To bring here
I find myself
Entwined in the thickness
Of every living–dead thing here
The whole scene
Has an afterglow
That is half–full of someone else
Missing you
Is not what I meant to do
What I meant to do
Was to dance
Until the whole house shook
I meant to visit every nook
And corner of this place
To rescue you
From every space that you inhabit
To find what’s left of you
And grab it
So that I could keep it
Deep inside of me
Where I am empty
Without you
