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Victoria Rose Apr 2011
The rusty hinge still squeaks from the shove you gave it as you walked out the door
I tried to clean up the carpet but there will forever be your stain on the floor
the phone continually rings as I let it echo in the quiet
you're still looking for my love but you won't ever find it
burned torn and ripped they lay in the can
pictures poems and things from you that I've already banned
the walls seep with the smell of your cologne
I might be losing itin this house on my own
though I haven't seen you outside of my thoughts
you torment me day in and out with your loss
I can't bear to open my blinds and peak through
I'm afraid the sunlight will only show me you
Ken Pepiton Nov 2022
Here, the coffee got cold again. But
so what
not every thing is historic, until it is, or isn't.

Literature in the clouds, data last stop, the top.
This is where traffic exchanges reason with war
for power to mine bit coins
burning desires to know, whence come these winds?

Time ghosts, ancient ideas, these symbols, most of these,
were lies,
Uncle Mike, he had a cadre of couples,
something of a cult, a marriage class that spake of oral ***,
tre' taboo too hint at,
when he was your age, and had not watched TV - no, addicted,
rub it in old man, Huey Newton, meet Jimmy Dean, the sausage
version, dressed al el viz fi'itin' t' fly,

past reasons to pretend, earth is not where, all ya'll who did,
prayed the father of Jesus, who claimed mary's baby

would hel p you sell a house in any market, St Joseph,
from any manger scene, bury him, upside down,
head first, right. Do that, you get your asking price,
any peaceful place,
you make worth more than most imagine,

--- yeah, you were Catholic. You heard that.
I thought the guy was the crazy uncles kid,
we had kids like that, special ed, DIY.
Faith in relatives met at funerals
Victoria Rose Apr 2011
The rusty hinge still squeaks from the shove you gave it as you walked out the door
I tried to clean up the carpet but there will forever be your stain on the floor
the phone continually rings as I let it echo in the quiet
you're still looking for my love but you won't ever find it
burned torn and ripped they lay in the can
pictures poems and things from you that I've already banned
the walls seep with the smell of your cologne
I might be losing itin this house on my own
though I haven't seen you outside of my thoughts
you torment me day in and out with your loss
I can't bear to open my blinds and peak through
I'm afraid the sunlight will only show me you

— The End —