Here I’m sitting on the bed,
I can see all the way out to the doorway,
I can see
my wintercoat, my hat,
my scarf
on the hanger.
Why not
my wintercoat, my hat
my scarf
sitting here on the bed,
and me hanging
on the hanger?
Would they watch me?
cigarettes an abbreviation
to thoughts darkening,
a twist of cyanide,
crushed camel packet dropped
too many smoked
mouth stale not as nature intended,
parked up
windows hazed slightly,
those words he had written down
being spoke to no one,
he could not bring himself to knock
and apologize,
over thinking a problem
made it only worse,
could they make up
or would leaving six years be easier,
he wished to be painting that
green wall again,
had she seen his car
panic a dense butterfly fluttered,
one glance a mans shape
at the downstairs window,
sudden confirmation
jerked ignition started and left
he had photographs
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