Living Room

There are more flowers now.
In vases, flowery messages filling the space
with hollow, empty words.
An extra photograph unnecessarily crowds the shelf,
Smiling awkwardly from the Seine
I join you in staring where we once sat -
So many hours dwindled, wasted away...
Gone.

If it weren't for these flowers, the room would not be so stark, cold.
I recall with longing those big bear-hands
you gave me, a solid, warm shoulder
Did you ever let me beat you at chess?
No matter - you could never sing
Just patiently listened to my endless en route concerts, enthused by my
Vicious sawings of a vile din.

While my melodies formed bolder buds,
I watched you wither, fonder of you for each lost leaf.
Your drawn out falling still so
Sudden.

She blinks next to you, watching the camera,
Ignoring its calculated attack,
Condemned
Blocking-out, forgetting the future.
You live in the past.

This room has changed so much.
Empty clutter.
Wilting flowers where once was - should be
Life