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.