You like me in all the wrong rooms

She said now you like me
in all the wrong rooms
which is one of the ways
an old love still blooms
but only in gutters
and places of rot
the streets you are walking
and where I am not.

She said you are always
out there in the crowd
and calling my name
but never aloud
yet at night I can hear you
clear through the wall
so close yet removed
the prayer but no shawl.

She sits unaware
on an old empty bed
the sound of herself
alone in her head
she forgets to be thinking
and who was to blame
she almost remembers
the shape of her name.

In the night before morning
as doors remain closed
her hopes are discarded
with yesterday’s clothes
but in the room soft beside her
she lies awake certain
of all that’s behind
the invisible curtain.

 

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