Lot 55

April 19, 2011
A twist
of the frosty frozen
doorknob tingles my
pink, warm pads of my fingers
Wind sputtering in my ears
Whipping my back
I see the
tear stained faces
shaking shoulders

I hear the news
He is dead
Grandpas dead
fuzzy pajamas
rubbing my back
feel like a stone wall

Shattering my heart
like fireworks
an acidic bitter lump forming
at the back of my throat
I shove her off
sprinting upstairs
to find comfort
leaving her destroyed

I break down
memories flooding my thoughts
emotions of sorrow, anger and longing
take over me

He was sick
very sick
i didn't realize he
was dying
the act he put on
was to protect me
yet in the end
it hurt even more

I still visit him
Lot 55
under the big oak tree
its fingers reaching up to heaven
shading him
protecting him forever

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PJD17 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
May 17, 2011 at 7:24 pm
This is so good i am really impressed keep it up  could you please check out and commetn on my poem what if we were a dream
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