i'm burning our pictures,
just to have something to do
on this lazy afternoon.

you're asleep on the couch,
the smell wouldn't wake you,
as nothing else will.

you've been sleeping forever,
staring blankly at the pasty ceiling,
i tried to wake you, honestly.

you mumbled incoherently,
and rolled to the side.
so now i sit here by candle light

as the sun is setting in the sky,
i wave the smell from my face,
who knew memories left such an awful stench?

i'm burning our letters,
just to keep warm
on this cold night.

i haven't moved all day,
neither have you.
i guess the memories don't matter.

not to me,
not to you.

the letters scorch the floor,
imprinting our souls,
why aren't you waking up?