The Hollow Seat of Yesterday

A glass of rain sits by the sill. The storm long

gone, but never still. It holds the sky within its curve.

A quiet way I don't deserve. The hollow seat of yesterday,

where we once laughed, where we once laid. Now gathers dust

a muted gray. The hollow seat of yesterday. Your voice was wine,

it stained my chest. A rich bouquet, a quiet rest.

But now the air is dry, it's cold. No trace remains

of what we told. If love's a book, we burned the