Submission (2nd draft)

the last thing i said to you
is 'don't leave me here'

we played
until our knuckles bled
and our hands resembled
branches seared
by lightening

invisible, i pace the room
playing hide and seek
with the cracks in the wood
poking my fingers through
to touch the wind

the smell of you lingers,
i strip down, discard
your touch, smear
traces of a song
across the walls

it continues to rain
long after the
breathing stops