I lived in the archive of

His  colourful, chaotic past

For two months

Sleeping with the Dust and Boxed Relics

Of his old life

The life he said he’d out grown

The Skin he said he’d Shed

His fashionable fox fur coat

And Hall of Packed Paintings

His One Hundred and One Shirts of Vanity,

Cases, and Boxes of Secrets

And there was I

Living out of my suitcase

In the dusty back room of His story

Where there was no  breathing space

For My story...