your words in winter hues, i picture
drunk on my bedroom floor
a dry sort of hope i can't get rid of
and it's lighting my sky, (the ceiling,
honey, let's get real here)
something vaguely beautiful, but

clothes i wore with you, hair up
and doll eyes, clothes i didn't
does it matter? yes,
but only when i'm here and i remember
things you said, good or bad,
and it keeps me awake at night.
(keeps me alive at night.)