You said goodbye when light was not yet here
inside this room, the shelter from our life
where we were make-believe husband and wife.
The artifacts and thoughts were centered clear;
we were ourselves, not mentored, without fear,
no moral guilt to cut us like a knife.
My watch was showing it was half past five
before I dreamt a memory so dear.
When I awoke, the room looked cold and white
as if my clothes had been in brutal fight.
It was how we had left them near the bed
where we pretended we were really wed.
This gave a feeling of a thing not right.
The message that the room silently said
made me not wait for your return that night.