Untitled
by
Linh K. Tong

Cigarette smoke lingers on my clothes
Hiding between the creases and the folds
Twenty seconds since you left
And I can still smell the coffee on your breath
The blanket is left on the floor
Because you said it was too hot and opened the door
The dishes are left unwashed in the sink
The silence is too loud so you can’t think
Forty-eight hours until I hear your voice
The rain has left the grass moist
You light your last cigarette and take it in
The window is now as clear as gin