Echoing up the street,
a busker's trumpet...

I was 6 hours ahead when
you rang...

A solitary raindrop
rolls down your left cheek...

You had folded my clothes
on the chair, and left a note...

There will
be a world after...

Deep, rigid lines will
one day...

You wield your
tongue like an assassin's...

I have anchored
myself here because the...

I smoke.
As it billows from...

Silence -
your bed's unmade...

You sang
only for me...

Your voice,
leaking portraits...