I crept into a living room I barely knew
And searched for warmth or clothes or dignity.
I found his jumper strangely folded by the couch
And pulled it on, staring at the wall,
His smell was clinging to the wool
Blue and cable knit and more expensive
Than anything that I could hope to buy.
An older man felt stable in the night
When vodka coursed through warmer veins.
Now I feel at odds with life, left wondering
If he was just a big mistake.