the wind is howling outside.
someone is sleeping peacefully
in my bed.
I stand alone in the kitchen,
wrapped in a hoodie, a pair of boxers,
and my slippers
- the fluffy ones.
the sink is dripping still,
the fridge still makes that strange noise
now and then.
the clock stopped
- the only sign that something changed.
I take a careful drag from one of your cigarettes,
like a thief, in the dark,
with the window open.
its smell
- your smell -
keeps me company.
I have this silly image of you
in my head
complaining about flowers,
and how much you hated them.
not because you were allergic,
but because people kept forgetting
that you were.
I’ll come by tomorrow,
bring you a fresh bunch
of perfect white lilies.
I’m pretty sure,
you would’ve found it funny.
______
late night company by Dimitrios Kokkinos is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License