these winter nights
have seeped into the drapes

and made of them
tenebrous brides
that sway after the wind

whose tears
of star rippled dim
pooling upon the windowsill
drowned the ghosts of summer
in their picture frames
and leeched the sonder
from our polaroid histories

how small
the world seems now
when rewound in black and white

when relived
all at once
solely within
the silent thunderstrikes
of headlights rushing by

how right you were

to live
moon blooming and lovebruised

and leave
with nothing of yourself
left unburned

because now
these winter nights
have seeped into the drapes

and they who stayed

from this cold hollow
shall never be returned.