The cold, low winter sun falls red upon the stair.
It’s like this every afternoon, late, when I’m alone.
Before the sky turns black I think of you and me.
My eyes move toward the room we shared. You kissed him there beneath the stair, before ascending to our room.
I turn away.
Through the window, I see the swing we played on.
Ropes tattered in the winter air. The seat broken, shattered like our love.
By you lovers footsteps on the stair.