Key in lock.
Open. Halt.
Hollow.
Empty rooms,
like darkened tombs,
swallow.
Clock ticks.
Its blaring clicks,
echo.
Left uncreased,
your pillow, sheets.
Aching.
Naked hangers.
Stripped remainders,
clinging.
Your melting scent,
at last, it went.
Bereft.
No replies.
No goodbyes.
Gone.
