Gray rosebuds, crumpled oak lead to a littered path your concrete domicile, aged with painful years. A caustic soul lies hidden within the attic of my mind. Dust-ridden and lost under lovers past. Enfold my hands in yours, flesh and bone. Rock and silt bind our fingers loosely– dry dirt slipping away. Like our love and our lives. Steps and turns and passageways. Closed doors and ripped floors. I left you dying you left me crying Left me sorting out the pile of memories in the foyer; things I try to piece together now that you’re gone.