The Maid

Amid unmade sheets
and dampened towels
revealed the morning after
the empty cups
stained brownish grey
remember something darker

She picks them up
and holds them close
tracing marks their lips had made
remembering again
the warmth of love
and smiling for the two

She steals one last glance
to keep this moment
before packing up these things
then collects the mess
and wipes the counters
and clears their memories out for more

Prompt: You are in a motel room.
(A Writer's Book of Days)

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