i steep fading memories
in wildflower tea,
walk through vacant rooms
where stale air clings to my skin,
the smell of moths and medicine,
reminders
suspended above,
empty frames on amber walls
in a house filled with little more than silence
you made saying goodbye an art form,
vases full of fallen petal promises,
masterpieces inside every room,
and me, with my own private viewing
– ashley jane