and the weather changes not halfway between your house and mine

Wire planes and million-point stares dangle
aimlessly above my head,
suspended firmly by the thread
of my imagination, my memories, the dreams
of what was and what might have been,
your being in my thoughts, hopelessly tangled.

We stayed in bed all the day
while we were bathed by the light of morning
that cleansed our thighs, adorning
our feet as I lost myself in the maze of your hair
that blanketed me softly in the cool night air
as I drank in the words you needed to say.

And now just your memory remains,
floating before me like a lingering ghost
you are to me, who loved you most
and more than any other, remaining now in the dark on the floor.
I stare miserably through the crack in the door,
Shifting dreams but not the pains.