The Hardening

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