Candles scented with honeysuckle. Warm woollen rug 
softens natural wood floors. Magnolia walls reflecting
fresh morning daylight. A snow white sofa singing
of wealth. Contrasting cushions positioned 
just so. An elegant coffee table 
polished to a rich oak glow.

You are the enigma to this self-controlled space. Dark curls tumble 
wildly over your face. The aroma of gym shoes and sweat 
wrestles the floral perfume to the floor. You fill the air 
with an off-key pop song, and spill belongings 
from an over-size bag onto the coffee table. 

Keys and chocolate wrappers. 
Coins and bus tickets.
 A dog-eared paperback. 
Mascara and deodorant
 – the latter clearly unused.

You fold your weary body onto the sofa. Feet up 
on the table. A satisfied smile creases your face.
Home, sweet home. Uninvited, you wonder
who’s house you've invaded.

This poem was written as a response to a writing prompt: The room and its human. I found the picture on pixabay after it was written, and so adapted the description to match.