The rim around the water glass has long been chipped and stained,
the charred deep gashing holes in the carpet,
spelling out your love.
The lock on the door that has been jimmied many-a-times,
it only reminds me of you.

The sofa has lost its lust, it's beautiful leather cracked,
the whip of life brought down upon it to many times.
I being brought down upon it to many times.

I see the ghost visions of ourselves in the kitchen,
in the living room,
on the porch.
Your scarred face, yelling always yelling.
It's playing out in front of me again and again.

A movie that I don't want to watch.
The one that I am the lead role.

So I come crawling back after weeks and weeks,
to find you gone,
to find my life gone with you.
Detachment and seclusion wrap there chilly arms around me,
and for the last time, I take a sip from the water glass.