Nail holes in the walls like the black eyes of mice.
Scratches where picture frames scuffed.
Wine stain in the shape of a cloud on the floor that we could never get out.
Your robe on the bed beside me, stuffed with pillows like a napping scarecrow.
Me pulling you close, taking in the ether of you, maybe even a few faint fumes.
Wedding diamond staring back, fingerless, ownerless.
Len Kuntz is a writer from Washington State, USA. His work appears widely in print and online. He’s also an editor at the online lit journal Metazen. You can find him at http://lenkuntz.blogspot.com.