dahliahs in wintertime

i lie in these worn out lavender sheets

drawing your silhouette in stale air and cigarette smoke

fading, the imprint of your breath

set in flickering embers of burnt sienna

i find solace in the exposed mattress spring

slicing through the smell of damp earth glistening in silver

moonlight, darkness a temporary respite

beneath drooping eyelids with a peek of red

tears wrung out like soapy dishwater

i sit at the splintered coffee table, waiting

for the wind’s confession on the other side of a door

unlocking, sub-zero hands on heated flesh

a crooked smile to break up the loneliness

shedding like the peeling wallpaper

burdened by your irrevocable absence

one day

i’ll change the sheets

get a new mattress

and drink coffee in that new café down the street

one day

i’ll lure myself into technicolor normalcy

till i realise i can’t deny your existence

not when my heart continues to beat

to that bittersweet tune

of calling out your name

peppered with the rustling of fresh dahliahs

lying pretty beneath your tombstone

erected with hopeless mercy