The Unmade Bed

Paulby Paul E Smith05 Jan 2014

Dinner lies cold between us
just like the unmade bed
and dirty pots are grinning
at the cruel words we said.

The clock ticks away each second
which widen into years
and memories of our argument
ring hollow in my ears.

Another clock, another room,
a single place is laid.
One thing though remains unchanged
that bed is still unmade.