She walks up the path no more But I hear kitten heals on slates Laid as sediments of sentiment Ash from the fire of our passion Now a compressed folio of love She opens up the door no more Her key she has returned to me And it turns on me in my pocket Pricks flesh with barbs she spat Sticking sharp in skin when I sit She runs up the stairs no more But I hear her feet gently rising Stairs we painted and carpeted Painted with our palette of love Carpeted as love is not enough She sleeps on my bed no more My heart is handed back to me And it murmurs in dream states Strikes nightly new blank slates Chiselling tales of how were we And the fossil, it is me, you see The tiles are closing around me As she chalks bright new marks On grey, on a graphite grey day I am stuck between grey sheets