saturday

There is nothing in this room.
Untidy spots of sticky tack left
of posters ripped off the walls
now just white.
Fragments of cigarette filters
and a looming empty smell.
Blue Christmas lights hang over
the remains of a makeshift shelf holding
no instruments,
no sheets of music,
no headphones,
no thoughts,
no whispers,
no warmth,
no sound.
Just nothing.
A closing glance reveals
a human heart deserted,
beating still...
against the worn brown carpet.