May 23, 2008
Sun streams through white curtains
hidden beneath the white down cover
a permanent dent
without movement.
In the bed, where we slept
from where he once lay
white egyptian cotton sheets
feel like 1,000 needles
instead of softness.

The clock flashes
a red 12.
He took everything
the picture
filled with alleged happiness
with the ring,
that didn’t fit.

I lay there
I couldn’t leave,
the place,
of lost lovers.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback