"Greetings.
Wake up.
Raise yourself from this bed
your body so sensuously haunts
and stamp the rim of this cup
with the seal of your lips,
a sweet, sweet message
to someone, to anyone,"

perhaps you agreed
and did just that,
gifting the roses of your lips
on the edge of the cup,
or perhaps you heard
absolutely nothing,
so deep you were in slumber,
so oblivious, so intoxicated with dreams,
that the one candle someone had lit
to light the road you would have taken,
gave up, extinguished itself
after gazing and gazing
at the street
for any sign of you,
and on the blue horizon of this city
the evening burned itself completely to ash.