visitors

[Wjames]

I sob on my kitchen tiles,
my knees against the floor
bruised by previous visitors. 
I frame their stays on a wall of my mind
hoping for longevity,
hoping it will work this time hoping what will work this time?

Is the chaos of my home perhaps too much to return to?
How is it possible?
I thought I cleaned up maybe 'I thought I was clean' would be nicer?

Hello Piscui, I think this is an interesting poem, to my read about repeated one night stands, despite hoping for something more lasting.