The Igloo - 6:52 in the morning..something i jotted

scattered between bread crumbs
beside the bin
shoes flung from the night before;
one upturned against the wall,
Beside lidless pens
old stained coffee cups,
crumpled under foot
are your drawings.
in the room that longs for your presence
her gentle smile and touch
white as the light breaking into shards through the window
meltings flakes that fell during the night,
moments fragile scattered as memories.

she cast her eyes down, murmering some uncertainty
the pride and selfishness i exume won't allow
me to tell you
the simple truth
for i long to hear the chirping of the morning
beside your shoulder again
my little love,
the chip you place ever so lightly on my right shoulder,
complements the one on the left.
so would it be a crime
a horrible crime
to admit
i would just like to hold you?
one more time.
and what i'd give to cup the morning with brazen faith
to gaze at a ceiling you once gazed upon too
to trace my steps long after you had left
to smell your lingering perfume.
then i'm taken.

walking down the corridor, the chill
through my slippers, resides in my bone.
past the lake and the breeze that sings soflty of your journey
the night before.
Did you sleep well against his arm?
Did he softly kiss your ear?
with no warm remark?
Did he read you to sleep with the honey of his tongue,
his daily thoughts,
his favourite poetry?
Did you show him your fvourite song,
and lightly sing in modesty your favourite verse in a small quivering voice?
Did you dance and laugh as you did me?
can i tell you once more what I failed to before?
striken pride driven man that I am,
can you see the damage i've done?

i watch you between shoulders and the haze of smoke
i hear the cruszendo of your laugh rattle off the empty glasses
like a vacant room, like afterhours, the soul in the wineglass
so with the sultry smile of a man who lies
i see you, and i know
this scorn will pass,
in the brazen aftermath
but i'll see you safe,
safer outside my door than inside
that i promise.