Your Name is No One

I wake up with my head against the back of the bed;
My hands are dead and holding a loud, red quilt against my chest.
But I'm quiet and sweating
And nobody's letting me write this last letter.

I don't want to know why you aren't back.
A light's been burning through the window crack,
Down this part oif my face and this one open eye,
And sleeping here across the left side of my neck.

I have no idea what I've done with my shoes.
A song's writing itself in my head for you.
At times it seems I'm talking to
The old gods I keep under my clothes.

I budge and roll out;
Another wretched morning shouts.
Wrapped in a coat, I float up and out.
I walk down the hall, and tell the walls your name again.

I'm wishing to taste your white chocolate skin.
I shatter the window and let the wind in;
Jump through to the yard, to where the green begins,
And gather the dead flowers that I find.