Naked.

I saw him when I walked past his door.
He was all huddled up in his duvet,
shaking and sweating and scratchy voiced.
‘Not sleeping very well’,
he stated, looking at me.

We were silent, then
I offered him a hot water bottle,
small compensation.
No smile passed across his face
and dark circles ringed his sad eyes.
All I could think,
stood looking at this sick,
lost man was
‘What have I done to you?’

I see a single ticket
pinned on his wall,
joint memory of a journey we took.
I threw away all my reminders
months ago,
yet he clings on.

He avoids my eyes
like a shamed schoolboy,
caught in a moment of weakness,
and I leave the room.