The keys on the desk

the lamp flickers on the wall
i watch the dust in the light
your chair is empty and cold
i haven't moved in three days
the tea cup has a brown ring
it sits beside your notebook

i hold the pen in my hand
the ink is dry on the page
i want to say i am sorry
but the words stay locked inside
i leave the keys on the desk

the rain hits the window pane
it makes a steady dull sound
i see your coat on the hook
it smells like cedar and smoke
my shoes are still by the door
covered in gray winter salt

i hold the pen in my hand
the ink is dry on the page
i want to say i am sorry
but the words stay locked inside
i leave the keys on the desk

i walk across the hardwood floor
it creaks under my weight
the clock on the mantel ticks
one second every time it moves
i find your old silver ring
it lies in the bottom drawer

i hold the pen in my hand
the ink is dry on the page
i want to say i am sorry
but the words stay locked inside
i leave the keys on the desk

i reach for the telephone
my thumb hovers on the glass
the screen stays dark and blank
no name appears in the glow
i pull my hand back again
i sit down in your old chair

the heater hums a low tune
the shadows stretch on the rug
i count the cracks in the ceiling
one, two, three, then four more
your coffee mug is still there
with your name carved in the clay

i hold the pen in my hand
the ink is dry on the page
i want to say i am sorry
but the words stay locked inside
i leave the keys on the desk

the neighbors turn off their lights
the house feels twice as big now
i wrap my sweater tight around
my shoulders against the chill
i stare at the empty hallway
waiting for a sound that ends

i hold the pen in my hand
the ink is dry on the page
i want to say i am sorry
but the words stay locked inside
i leave the keys on the desk

just a ring of brown tea
just a pen that won't write
the keys are still sitting there
on the wood of the desk