If I die tomorrow
what will I leave behind?
sierra vintage photographs
stapled on peeling paper walls?
a fingerprint of you and me
drawn in fog on a mirror?
faded denim jeans 
tossed carelessly on the bed?
cobwebs in the corner
dust on all the chairs?
never fixed the leaking roof
never did make dinner for two..
I suppose it's still there,
under my mattress -
the little box with all my dreams
though the key has long been lost
Will anyone ever know my name?
all of me sold or burned away.
I'll leave behind an empty house
with empty closets, empty beds
and empty garage and a barren kitchen
and take away an empty heart.