It must have been through the window,
but it's a second floor window.
Without the assistance of another, you can't get out;
not without taking the keys with you,
but they're next to the speaker where I left them.
No note, no number, just the half smoked cigarette
that I didn't want to stand in the cold of the open window
and watch her smoke,
so I told her she didn't need it.
I'm scared of walking downstairs,
what if she's sat at the dining table with the rest of the household
with reassuring hands on her shoulder and the leaflet about God
that I know they keep in plain view with me in mind.
I will eat smoked cheese and crackers until the night comes just in case.
It's strange how they change.
There was certainly something in the eyes
something that you couldn't let go of.
It devoured everything.
Yet, as we walked the walk
she changed and I had to stop and kiss her
to remind me of the eyes.
I can smell someone smoking cannabis outside my window
and people talking outside of my room
they are talking about a letter.
I do not know exactly how to move today
other than towards something else.