The teak wood is warped by the humid pressure of sadness distilled. The floors creak with the weight of my footsteps, steps that travel in circles through the memories that won’t be still. The curtains flutter in the ocean breeze, tattered tissue paper stained with questions I won’t ask. The windows are caked with streaks of salt, tainted with the taste of my tears. I can’t see the beach, only the remnants of a sand castle we built and abandoned in our youth. I hear the waves beyond, roaring, demanding vengeance for my absence, for my blatant escape from the years I could have spent with you.
The only furniture is the bed we once shared. Sheets outline only one body. Back then we were. One, that is. We were two instruments that gave rise only to one melody. We dreamed in unison. You provided the sound. I splashed in…
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RamJet Poetry 
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