He saw the edges of things,
Frames, corners, red rugs
Not fuzzy but sharp
Like ironed twill
Observing the rose
Petals had dropped
Leaving bare, stark
The hopefulness
That had walked into the room.
Entering with an empty head
Sullen arms
And a heavy door shut
Nothing exchanged
Not even the stuffed air
Arms arrived empty
And left emptier
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