Chevvy is a wonderful poet. She describes my feelings, but she adds an ethereal touch. She writes the words that I wish I had the courage to say.
A pale moon guards the deserted house jealously.
Snowflakes scatter amongst shadows of skeletal trees,
padding the dim silence of shuttered windows and bolted doors.
Behind the walls, under a solitary desk lamp, tendrils of cigar smoke
curl towards the ceiling from a silhouette behind the desk.
Words fail him again.
Remnants of hidden love lie
Crumpled in the bin.