Monday, September 13, 2010


She sits,
Filters in the tobacco
She sits,
Tension releases,
Smoke dances a
halo around her crown
Her lips are espresso
Her tongue, forked
Narration of the last 23 years on skin
A pen rests between the pointer and the thumb
Today's canvas, still vacant
Today's mood, frustrated
She realizes
He will never call again,
Left side of the bed, a ghost town
It's not fair
Breakfast skipped since,
The kitchen has too many memories
There was once love here
Every morning, she sits
If it wasn't for a 9-5 she would stay in bed
She sits,
Zombie on the a.m. drive
Punches in
Punches out
She sits,
Zombie on the p.m. drive
Ignores the 2 missed calls and 4 text messages
Through the cafe doors
She is not a regular
Orders a double espresso and a cup of ice
She sits,
She tries to write
She sits,
She tries to fight
She sits,
If I could offer anything
I would
I sit,
staring at her pain,
I sit.


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