nectar and gold

i. crack in the curtains

i am sitting in a hotel room
by the window
it's mid-afternoon, and
a crack in the curtains allows sunlight to pour through

it pours and pours like the love once poured from me.

the decades-old fan in the corner
emits a low hum
as it turns and
blows air, heavy with lives lived and love lost, over me

 humming and humming like my mother used to while cooking.

the tapestry on the walls
is peeling
off, towards the dark-grey
carpet below, flowers wilting a second time in my mind

peeling and peeling like the layers you stripped from me.

i can hear the janitor singing
in the hallway
where he must be dancing, and
the rhythm is only his in the dim lights, only his

dancing and dancing like we did once, under the stars of barcelona.

it's a treacherous fantasy
to fall into
pulling you lower and
lower until your lips steal all the breath from my lungs

stealing and stealing until i am robbed blind.

i am sitting in a hotel room
by the window
it's mid-afternoon, and
a crack in the curtains allows sunlight to pour through

it pours and pours like all my thoughts of you.