the burns stains on your favorite crimson chair
your Winston painting blue clouds in a room
large enough to seat fifteen
it wasn't the smoke that choked me
angry days were behind you, I think
grieving days were shelved for when you
were alone
memories were aired
you remembered loving someone whose
only want was to break you
blue was the color of our world
sadness tinged with resigned loneliness
mornings were on repeat
walking on ice
cold indoors
colder outdoors
taking that walk that may lead
to a better somewhere or nowhere at all
but you were sitting there so beautiful
in your blue exhale
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