The candle flickers bounce off the walls of disarray — the wax a puddle beneath its wick — love letters rest beside the bed. None of which she has read.
Tears on her pillow dry despite the rain slapping the window. A half-empty wineglass exposes her deep pessimism.
A naked whisper in the still air carries with it the faint scent of her cherry-red lip gloss.
(Dusting off Dreams #50 out of 166k in poem)