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Our house smells like dead flowers
And broken hearts
Stale Soup in the kitchen,
Bleach in the bathrooms,
Dust in the basement
And regret hanging from the ceiling.
Our house smells like new furniture that already has cracks
And old furniture full of lies.
The lights glare at us
And the sink cries
And the TV tries to soothe us with falsehood.
Rain hits the roof
And feet hit the floor
And the truth hits you in the face.
Our house smells like dead flowers and broken hearts.
Our house is not a home.





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This article has 3 comments. Post your own now!

bun1976 said...
Feb. 11, 2010 at 6:09 am
Al,
This poem is so beautiful and sad. If you want to talk, let me know.
Sarah
 
sasssgirrrl22 said...
Feb. 5, 2010 at 9:12 pm
whoa this is so deep. i luv it. im so sorry bout ur mom. best of luck!!
 
sonnysulouff replied...
Feb. 6, 2010 at 9:40 am
Thanks... glad u like it!
 
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