Your eyes washed over me like layers of thin calmness
Coating the inside and outside of my wishful thinking
And disarming the painful subsistence I called my life.

Even now your water cup rests slowly collecting dust
Where you placed it careful on the kitchen table
The last time your lips sipped from its cool wetness.

It reminds me of such things like sitting that night,
Sometimes in smooth silence, mostly in quiet stillness,
Peaking through strands of your hair and memory.

The questions tossed around the four barren corners
Of the small living space, accumulating around stories,
Were past, present, or future, but always something.

Time slipped many times through my hour glass
Before you stepped out into the early morning hall
So I could watch you walk away in fading expression