The television casts a blue and flickering glow

The television casts a blue and flickering glow

over the sofa where I used to sit and lean.

You’re laughing at a name I don’t even know,

pointing at something small upon the screen.

Your hand is resting on a different kind of sleeve,

a casual, heavy weight that used to be mine.

I’m waiting for the moment I should leave,

watching the way your eyes begin to shine

for someone who isn't standing in the hall.

My glass is sweating on the coaster, getting warm,

and I am just a shadow on the painted wall,

a quiet witness to the gathering of the storm.