The house stands empty breathing

A mournful sigh, its movement

The only sound as dusk muffles the day.

I look for traces of you amid the stillness.

Lipstick on a wine glass. Your lips.

A book fallen open. My eyes

Mirrored orbs reflecting words on a page.

In your clothes poured on the floor

I see your fluid form dancing.

A scattered pile of correspondence

Your name on a letter. Five letters.

And a bag discarded spilling

This and that, fragments of a day.

Days and dates.

Your scent lingers on a pillow

As though you'd just left the room.

The house sighs and shifts.

I close my eyes and breath it deeply

This trace of you kindling my dreams.