In a weeks time after you always leave

It's a mess

The ceiling fan causes the pages of my open journal that's placed on the floor to flutter

Pairs of shoes litter the ground, one set isn't mine

Sweaters, jeans, and a singular pair of shorts make tiny islands on the carpet

The light from my open closet breaks the dark and creates soft shadows on the wall and posters that resides on it

A single line of light slashes across the guitar propped against the wall, the clock on the bed reads 1:54 AM

The bed is a jumble, the standing fan in the far corner lightly shifts air over the wrinkled sheets

It's cold yet warm in the room

Winter taps its cold wind wrapped hand against my window

It's cozy here